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Gerard Manley Hopkins, nature, in English Clear filters

InspiredGerard Manley Hopkins

Spring

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.
InspiredGerard Manley Hopkins

That Nature Is A Heraclitean Fire And Of The Comfort Of The Resurrection

Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows ' flaunt forth, then chevy on an air- built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs ' they throng; they glitter in marches. Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever an elm arches, Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance, and pair. Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ' ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare Of yestertempest's creases; in pool and rut peel parches Squandering ooze to squeezed ' dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches Squadroned masks and manmarks ' treadmire toil there Footfretted in it. Million-fuelèd, ' nature's bonfire burns on. But quench her bonniest, dearest ' to her, her clearest-selvèd spark
CheerfulGerard Manley Hopkins

Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things— For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him.
CheerfulGerard Manley Hopkins

The Furl of Fresh-Leaved Dogrose Down

The furl of fresh-leaved dogrose down His cheeks the forth-and-flaunting sun Had swarthed about with lion-brown Before the Spring was done. His locks like all a ravel-rope’s-end, With hempen strands in spray— Fallow, foam-fallow, hanks—fall’n off their ranks, Swung down at a disarray. Or like a juicy and jostling shock Of bluebells sheaved in May Or wind-long fleeces on the flock A day off shearing day. Then over his turnиd temples—here— Was a rose, or, failing that, Rough-Robin or five-lipped campion clear For a beauty-bow to his hat,
ContemplativeGerard Manley Hopkins

What Being in Rank-Old Nature

What being in rank-old nature should earlier have that breath been That hйre pйrsonal tells off these heart-song powerful peals?— A bush-browed, beetle-brуwed bнllow is it? With a soъth-wйsterly wнnd blъstering, with a tide rolls reels Of crumbling, fore-foundering, thundering all-surfy seas in; seen Ъnderneath, their glassy barrel, of a fairy green. . . . . . . . . Or a jaunting vaunting vaulting assaulting trumpet telling

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