Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins: Now First Published

“Glory be to God for dappled things--For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough;And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.All things counter, original, spare, strange;Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:Praise Him.””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“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”

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;Not untwist”

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise. So it must be on every original artist to some degree, on me to a marked degree.(from notes on 'Heraclitean Fire')””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his To the Father through the features of men's faces.””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“Shéer plód makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“When will you ever, Peace, wild wooddove, shy wings shut,Your round me roaming end, and under be my boughs?When, when, Peace, will you, Peace? I’ll not play hypocriteTo own my heart: I yield you do come sometimes; butThat piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allowsAlarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?O surely, reaving Peace, my Lord should leave in lieuSome good! And so he does leave Patience exquisite,That plumes to Peace thereafter. And when Peace here does houseHe comes with work to do, he does not come to coo,He comes to brood and sit.””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“...Where we, even where we mean To mend her we end her, When we hew or delve:After-comers cannot guess the beauty been. Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve Strokes of havoc únselve The sweet especial scene, Rural scene, a rural scene, Sweet especial rural scene.””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

“No, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee””

— Gerard Manley Hopkins