7 Jun 2008

Look what I found when I was sweeping

I showed it to my Granny
and together we recited a little poem
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh throughts care for, can you?
Ah! as 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 will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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