“Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Milk” is the thing with calcium -
That perches in the mug -
And adds the cream without the fat -
And comes out of - a jug -

And sweetest - in Latte - is heard -
And warm must be the drink -
That could abash the little Curd
That flavored so many things -

I’ve poured it in the chilled coffee -
And in the strangest Tea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
I left a crumb - for thee.

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