Hope Is the Thing with Feathers (Choral Edition)
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Lyrics
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune
Without the word
And never stops at all
And sweetest in the careless hurt
And sore must be the stone
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many home
I've heard it in the chillest hour
And on the strangest sea
Yet never in extremity
It asked a crumb of me