Wednesday, September 5, 2012

A Poem for All Who are Seared and Bleared and Smeared with the Election Rhetoric


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;
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 tall this, nature is never spent,
There lives the 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.

---Gerard Manley Hopkins   

You really need to read and listen to at least twice as much stuff like this as you read and listen to political stuff. If you don't, it will make you spiritually ill.


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