GOD'S GRANDEUR BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS(1844-1889)

                                   The world is charged with the grandeur of god

                                           It will flame out like shining from the shook foil;

                                           It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil,

                                    Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? 

                                    Generations have trod , have trod, have trod

                                           And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

                                           And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

                                     Is bare now, nor can foot fell, being shod.

                                    And for all this, nature is never spent;

                                           There lives a dearest freshness deep down things;

                                    And though the last lights off the black West went

                                           Oh morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs-

                                    Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
                                           World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings