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 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 HopkinsDo you know, a horrible thing has happened to me. I have begun to doubt Tennyson.
Gerard Manley Hopkins