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"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."

By: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) An introvert personality, her poems made an impact on literary critics and she is considered to be a major American poet.