"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all."
"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 chilliest land And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me."
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Source: c.1860 Complete Poems, no.254 (first published 1891).
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"I am out with lanterns, looking for myself."
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