“Hope“ is the thing with feathers

poem by Emily Dickinson (circa 1861) “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. = = = (To encourage others to perform, record, and publish their own interpretation of this poem, the vocal is in the left audio channel, the accompaniment is in the right, and the license is Creative Commons - Attribution.)