By Gerard Manley Hopkins
Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.
Source: Gerard Manley Hopkins: Poems and Prose (Penguin Classics, 1985)
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As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
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Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing...
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...
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We've always been out looking for answers,
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searching for connection, choosing
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which, in translation, might very well be
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unfolding like origami, navigating
geomagnetic storms, major disruptions.
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The tide ebbs and reveals orange and purple sea stars.
I have no theory of radiance,
but after rain evaporates
off pine needles, the needles glisten.
In the courtyard, we spot the rising shell of a moon,
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Wake up, greet the sun, and pray.
Burn cedar, sweet grass, sage—
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Remember, when you step into the arena of your life,
For the Feral Splendor That Remains
sometimes I strain