The summary of the poem??
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.