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.
Gerard Manley HopkinsAnd 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, springsโ Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Gerard Manley HopkinsFor Christ plays in ten thousand places,/ Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his/ To the Father through the features of menโs faces.
Gerard Manley HopkinsSpring and Fall: To a Young Child Mรกrgarรฉt, are you grรญeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leรกves, lรญke the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! รกs the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you wรญll weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sรณrrow's sprรญngs รกre the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It รญs the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for.
Gerard Manley Hopkins