Sunday Poem Day.

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.
  It will flame out, like shining from 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;        5
  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 feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
  There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;        10
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.

-Gerard Manley Hopkins
I've decided that since I have such an obsession with poetry, I'm going to start posting my favorite poem of the week each Sunday. This week, in Dr. Walker's class, we read Hopkins. As difficult as Hopkins can be to understand, I think that the imagery of his poetry is almost matchless. There is something invigorating about the ending of this poem and the hope that seems to come in the bright wings.

Maybe the reason I like this poem so much is because I feel that this poem, particularly, reaffirms my belief that poetry is a form of Godly creation. Somehow, the amazing poets of the centuries have captured the essence of humanity and God in their poetry. Forever, I will be amazed by their genius.

Love always,

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