Hope Is The Thing With Feathers by Emily Dickinson
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.
*Notes: * Base video clip created by DeepAI. Text prompt (the poem "Hope Is The Thing With Feathers") to video Editing tool: video editor Clipchamp (text and music)
