NaPoWriMo Day 3: "Despair" is an fantasy with scales

Prompt: Find a shortish poem that you like, and rewrite each line, replacing each word (or as many words as you can) with words that mean the opposite. For example, you might turn “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” to “I won’t contrast you with a winter’s night.” From: NaPoWriMo

“Hope” is the thing with feathers
By Emily Dickinson

"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."

Despair is an fantasy with scales
That shelters in the mind,
And silences the world with harshness,
And just stops all,

And bitterest in the stillness is heard;
And indolent must be the serene
That could never daunt the vulture
That turned so many blue.

I've never heard it in the sunny land,
And on the ordinary lake;
Yet, always, in the beginning,
It plucked a fistful of me.

- Oizys.