"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 abosh 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 crum of me."

(die bilder entstanden an einem sommertag diesen jahres im norden hollands.)