Uploaded on December 1, 2011
Some candle clear burns somewhere I come by.
I muse at how its being puts blissful back
With yellowy moisture mild night’s blear-all black,
Or to-fro tender trambeams truckle at the eye.
By that window what task what fingers ply,
I plod wondering, a-wanting, just for lack
Of answer the eagerer a-wanting Jessy or Jack
There/God to aggrándise, God to glorify.—
Come you indoors, come home; your fading fire
Mend first and vital candle in close heart’s vault:
You there are master, do your own desire;
What hinders? Are you beam-blind, yet to a fault
In a neighbor deft-handed? are you that liar
And, cast by conscience out, spendsavour salt?
—Gerard Manley Hopkins
Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets: Hopkins
12.01.2023: Hopkins had a hell of a sense of rhythm, and he had fun with his words. I love that.