[00:19.000]Hope is the thing with feathers
[00:26.000]That perches in the soul,
[00:35.000]And sings the tune--without the words,
[00:43.000]And never stops at all,
[00:51.000]And sweetest in the gale is heard;
[01:01.000]And sore must be the storm
[01:10.000]That could abash the little bird
[01:19.000]That kept so many warm.
[02:03.000]I've heard it in the chillest land,
[02:12.000]And on the strangest sea;
[02:20.000]Yet, never, in extremity,
[02:30.000]It asked a crumb of me.