Question

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 some 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 extremely
It asked a crumb- of me.
By Emily Dickinson
* figure of speech (any one) ​

Answer 1

Answer:

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Answer 2

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