All Poems

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The Sea Took Pity

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

The sea took pity: it interposed with doom:
I have tall daughters dear that heed my hand:
Let Winter wed one, sow them in her womb,
And she shall child them on the New-world strand.
. . . . . . . .

Thee, God, I Come from

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

Thee, God, I come from, to thee go,
All day long I like fountain flow
From thy hand out, swayed about
Mote-like in thy mighty glow.

The May Magnificat

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

Is it only its being brighter
Than the most are must delight her?
Is it opportunest
And flowers finds soonest?

I bear a basket lined with grass;
I am so light, I am so fair,
That men must wonder as I pass
And at the basket that I bear,
Where in a newly-drawn green litter
Sweet flowers I carry, -- sweets for bitter.

To What Serves Mortal Beauty?

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

To what serves mortal beauty 'dangerous; does set danc-
ing bloodthe O-seal-that-so ' feature, flung prouder form
Than Purcell tune lets tread to? ' See: it does this: keeps warm
Men's wits to the things that are; ' what good meanswhere a glance

Cheery Beggar

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

Beyond M?gdalen and by the Bridge, on a place called there the Plain,
In Summer, in a burst of summertime
Following falls and falls of rain,
When the air was sweet-and-sour of the flown fineflower of

Duns Scotus's Oxford

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

Yet ah! this air I gather and I release
He lived on; these weeds and waters, these walls are what
He haunted who of all men most sways my spirits to peace;

To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot, My Life

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

I am in Ireland now; now I am at a thírd
Remove. Not but in all removes I can
Kind love both give and get. Only what word
Wisest my heart breeds dark heaven's baffling ban
Bars or hell's spell thwarts. This to hoard unheard,
Heard unheeded, leaves me a lonely began.

Love Preparing to Fly

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

He play'd his wings as tho' for flight;
They webb'd the sky with glassy light.
His body sway'd upon tiptoes,
Like a wind-perplexed rose;
In eddies of the wind he went
At last up the blue element.

May Magnificat

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

May is Mary's month, and I
Muse at that and wonder why:
Her feasts follow reason,
Dated due to season

In The Valley Of The Elwy

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

I remember a house where all were good
To me, God knows, deserving no such thing:
Comforting smell breathed at very entering,
Fetched fresh, as I suppose, off some sweet wood.

Hope Holds to Christ

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

. . . . . . . .
Hope holds to Christ the minds own mirror out
To take His lovely likeness more and more.
It will not well, so she would bring about

My Own Heart Let Me Have More Have Pity On; Let

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
's not wrung, see you; unforeseen times ratheras skies
Betweenpie mountainslights a lovely mile.

The Handsome Heart

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

'But tell me, child, your choice; what shall I buy
You?''Father, what you buy me I like best.'
With the sweetest air that said, still plied and pressed,
He swung to his first poised purport of reply.

Ash-Boughs

a.Not of all my eyes see, wandering on the world,
Is anything a milk to the mind so, so sighs deep
Poetry to it, as a tree whose boughs break in the sky.
Say it is ashboughs: whether on a December day and furled

The Loss Of The Eurydice

The Eurydiceit concerned thee, O Lord:
Three hundred souls, O alas! on board,
Some asleep unawakened, all un-
warned, eleven fathoms fallen

The Lantern Out Of Doors

Death or distance soon consumes them: wind
What most I may eye after, be in at the end
I cannot, and out of sight is out of mind.

The Leaden Echo And The Golden Echo

(Maidens' song from St. Winefred's Well)
THE LEADEN ECHOHow to kéepis there ány any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch or catch or key to keep
Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, ... from vanishing away?
Ó is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rankéd wrinkles deep,

Moonrise

I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;

Easter Communion

God shall o'er-brim the measures you have spent
With oil of gladness, for sackcloth and frieze
And the ever-fretting shirt of punishment
Give myrrhy-threaded golden folds of ease.
Your scarce-sheathed bones are weary of being bent:
Lo, God shall strengthen all the feeble knees.