Márgarét, are you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás 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 wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
photo courtesy of Magnolia House
3 comments:
Aw, how sweettt. :]
And I never liked that picture till I saw it on here. I think I might make a whole blog theme for you by the way. Would you like that?
Who are you and why have you invaded my blog????
;^)
But of course I would like it.
I am your worst enemy. FEAR ME!
I'll work on that with your supervising.
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