akingbehin daniel murphy
'Hope' is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is
And sore 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 extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
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