Sunday, April 05, 2009

Sunday Poetry: Gerard Manley Hopkins

No Worst, There Is None. Pitched Past Pitch Of Grief

No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,
More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring.
Comforter, where, where is your comforting?
Mary, mother of us, where is your relief?
My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief
Woe, world-sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing—
Then lull, then leave off. Fury had shrieked 'No ling-
ering! Let me be fell: force I must be brief'.

O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall
Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap
May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our small
Durance deal with that steep or deep. Here! creep,
Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all
Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.

Gerard Manley Hopkins


Blogger Cosa Nostradamus said...


Timely for the families in Binghamton & Pittsburgh.

Well, here's cheerier music for a Sunday, celebrating the inevitable (and marriage in general): Gay Marriage legal by 2012. In all civilized States, anyway.

6:37 PM  
Blogger shrimplate said...

My goodness that is awesomely beautiful.

I do use sea salt; actually, I have a little collection of various kinds in my kitchen. I have a salt grinder, and also a little ceramic container called a salt pig. That's for keeping coarse salt handy by the stove.

8:21 PM  
Blogger Ruth said...

Good to know, that sea salt is a nice new find. For those who don't know what we're talking about, I made a comment at shrimplate's post on salt/pepper containers.

2:17 AM  
Anonymous Luxury Serviced Apartments Lady said...

What a devastating piece, I think this will resonate with me for the rest of the week.

2:56 AM  

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