How to rewrite this poem using todays language.
"hope" is the thing with feathers
"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 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.

"Hope" is the Thing with Feathers 
"Hope" is the thing with quills 
That roosts in the spirit 
Furthermore, sings the tune without the words 
Furthermore, never stops by any stretch of the imagination, 
Furthermore, sweetest in the hurricane is listened; 
What's more, sore must be the tempest 
That could abash the little feathered creature 
That kept such a large number of warm. 
I've heard it in the chilliest land 
What's more, on the most unusual ocean, 
However never, in furthest point, 
It solicited a scrap from me.