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.
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cvjug ipdi indha seiyalam sonnaal sonnapadi
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