Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.

In the quiet of the heart’s chamber,
It whispers soft and clear,
A melody untouched by storm,
A song that all can hear.

Through darkest nights and tempest’s roar,
Its voice remains so sweet,
A beacon in the shadowed world,
A guide for weary feet.

Oh, gentle bird of endless flight,
In every heart you dwell,
A testament to human dreams,
A story only hope can tell.