Title: Optional

Text: Hope is the thing with feathers - It 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. Each paragraph will be a test.

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