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


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


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 Ė


Because the Holy Ghost over the bent


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