“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
~ Emily Dickinson
![hap-og-fortvilelse](https://i0.wp.com/www.astridterese.no/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Håp-og-fortvilelse-300x200.jpg?resize=300%2C200)