alone

Poem: To R.B.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins


THE FINE delight that fathers thought; the strong
Spur, live and lancing like the blowpipe flame,
Breathes once and, quenchèd faster than it came,
Leaves yet the mind a mother of immortal song.
Nine months she then, nay years, nine years she long
Within her wears, bears, cares and moulds the same:
The widow of an insight lost she lives, with aim
Now known and hand at work now never wrong.
Sweet fire the sire of muse, my soul needs this;
I want the one rapture of an inspiration.
O then if in my lagging lines you miss
The roll, the rise, the carol, the creation,
My winter world, that scarcely breathes that bliss
Now, yields you, with some sighs, our explanation.
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

  • Poem: Lucifer in Starlight

    - George Meredith On a starred night Prince Lucifer uprose. Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend Above the rolling ball in cloud part…

  • poem: The Star-Spangled Banner

    - Francis Scott Key (a fellow St. John's College alumnus) O say can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the…

  • St. Crispin's Day

    Give thanks, England, to God for victory! Harry trudged to Agincourt, ankle deep in mud, and wistful, weary, thought of sleep; thought of…