I love this poem, particularly in springtime when all the birds are out and there's a hope of summer in the offing!
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 chilliest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Poetry for Young People -- Emily Dickinson
Gale -- a strong wind
Abash -- to astonish, to make feel ill at ease or self-conscious
Extremity -- a most difficult or dangerous time or situation