Because, that's why.
|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;||5|
|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;||10|
|Yet, never, in extremity,|
|It asked a crumb of me.|
Have you a beloved verse? Which one(s), and by whom?