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

We all have different perspectives of hope and it is such a delicate thing. We call some events as miracle; but i think, the real miracle is HOPE. It is very light, it will not be a heavy burden on you like the bitter realities of world. Hope can help us fly as feathers help birds. Also, feather keeps birds warm, keep the cold away. Hope is warm, too. It keep your heart warm in storms, in chilly weather or whenever you need. But, if you forget it, you have to stand lonely against hardships.