April
/ May 2015 - Vol. 79
.God's Grandeur
by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook
foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of
oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have
trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared
with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell:
the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down
things;
And though the last lights off the black West
went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward,
springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah!
bright wings.
.
..
That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire
and of the Comfort of the Resurrection
..
a
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89)
CLOUD-PUFFBALL, torn tufts,
tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on
an air-
built
thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs
' they throng; they glitter in marches.
Down
roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever
an elm arches,
Shivelights
and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance,
and pair.
Delightfully
the bright wind boisterous ' ropes, wrestles,
beats earth bare
Of
yestertempest’s creases; in pool and rut peel
parches
Squandering
ooze to squeezed ' dough, crust, dust;
stanches, starches
Squadroned
masks and manmarks ' treadmire toil there
Footfretted
in it. Million-fuelèd, ' nature’s bonfire
burns on.
But quench
her bonniest, dearest ' to her, her
clearest-selvèd spark
Man, how fast
his firedint, ' his mark on mind, is gone!
Both are in
an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark
Drowned. O
pity and indig ' nation! Manshape, that shone
Sheer off,
disseveral, a star, ' death blots black out;
nor mark
Is
any of him at all so stark
But vastness
blurs and time ' beats level. Enough! the
Resurrection,
A
heart’s-clarion! Away grief’s gasping, '
joyless days, dejection.
Across
my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an
eternal beam. ' Flesh fade, and mortal trash
Fall to the
residuary worm; ' world’s wildfire, leave but
ash:
In
a flash, at a trumpet crash,
I am all at
once what Christ is, ' since he was what I am,
and
This Jack,
joke, poor potsherd, ' patch, matchwood,
immortal diamond,
Is
immortal diamond. |
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