Gerard Manley Hopkins

Godís Grandeur (1877)

 

 

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

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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 & shares man's smell: the soil

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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

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Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs Ė

 

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

 

World broods with warm breast & with ah! bright wings.