.Changes

.Hope is the thing with feathers - Emily Dickinson

- 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

The 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