Hope is the Thing with Feathers

᛫᛬ᚻᚩ‍ᚹᛈ᛬᛫​ᛁᛉ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᚦᛁᛝ᛫​ᚹᛁᚦ᛫​ᚠᛖᚦᛟ‍ᚱᛉ᛫᛫​
ᚦᚫᛏ᛫​ᛈᚢ‍ᚱᚳᛟᛉ᛫​ᛁᚾ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᛋᚩ‍ᚹᛚ᛫᛫​
ᚫᚾᛞ᛫​ᛋᛁᛝᛉ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᛏᛡᚣ‍ᚹᚾ᛫​ᚹᛁᚦᚫ‍ᚹᛏ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᚹᚢ‍ᚱᛞᛉ᛫᛫​
ᚫᚾᛞ᛫​ᚾᛖᚠ‍ᚠᛟᚱ᛫​ᛥᚩᛈᛋ᛫᛫​ᚫᛏ᛫ᚩ‍​ᚩᛚ᛫᛫​

ᚫᚾᛞ᛫​ᛋᚹᛁᛡᛏᛟᛋᛏ᛫᛫​ᛁᚾ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᚸᛖ‍ᛡᛚ᛫᛫​ᛁᛉ᛫​ᚻᚢ‍ᚱᛞ᛫᛫​
ᚫᚾᛞ᛫​ᛋᚩ‍ᚱ᛫​ᛗᚢᛋᛏ᛫​ᛒᛁᛡ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᛥᚩ‍ᚱᛗ᛫᛫​
ᚦᚫᛏ᛫​ᛣᚣᛞ᛫​ᛟᛒᚫᛋ‍ᚳ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᛚᛁᛏᛚ᛫​ᛒᚢ‍ᚱᛞ
ᚦᚫᛏ᛫​ᛣᛖᛈᛏ᛫​ᛋᚩ‍ᚹ᛫​ᛗᛖᚾᛄ᛫​ᚹᚩ‍ᚱᛗ᛫᛫​

​ᚫᛡᚠ‍ᚠ᛫​ᚻᚢ‍ᚱᛞ᛫​ᛁᛏ᛫​ᛁᚾ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᚳᛁᛚ​ᛟᛋᛏ᛫​ᛚᚫᚾᛞ᛫᛫​
ᚫᚾᛞ᛫​ᚩᚾ᛫​ᚦᛟ᛫​ᛥᚱᛖ‍ᛡᚾᚷ​ᛟᛋᛏ᛫​ᛋᛁᛡ᛫᛫​
ᛡᛖᛏ᛫᛫​ᚾᛖᚠ‍ᚠᛟ‍ᚱ᛫᛫​ᛁᚾ᛫ᛁᛣᛥᚱᛖᛗᛟᛏᛄ᛫​
ᛁᛏ᛫​ᚫᛋᛣᛏ᛫​ᛟ᛫​ᚳᚱᚢᛗ᛫᛫​​ᛟᚠ‍ᚠ᛫​ᛗᛁᛡ᛬​

“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 chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.