Sunday Sustenance

"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