Tuesday, September 13, 2011

All things counter, original, spare, strange

Tuesday already? What?

Gerard Manley Hopkins is one of my go-to poets, partially because of his use of "sprung rhythm" and his general playfulness with words. Partially it's also because I went to his church, St. Aloysius, when I studied at Oxford for a semester.

Pied Beauty

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.

And just because it's fun to hear it aloud:

2 comments:

  1. Oh, "Pied Beauty." I remember that from when I first began to care about poetry, when I was a young teen. That was one of the first poems that stuck in my head.

    Somehow, though, I always think of it as a spring/summer poem. I don't know why, there's nothing particularly seasonal about it.

    Maybe just because fall is so much associated with
    Margaret, are you grieving
    Over Goldengrove unleaving?


    Why yes, yes I am, although my heart has grown considerably older since I first read these poems. Ah well, it is the blight man was born for, and woman also, I suppose.

    On a more cheerful note, it also reminds me of Louise Bogan's "Variations On a Sentence."
    There are few or no bluish animals...
    -Thoreau's Journals, 1885

    Of white and tawny, black as ink,
    Yellow, and undefined, and pink,
    And piebald, there are droves, I think.

    (Buff kine in herd, gray whales in pod,
    Brown woodchucks, colored like the sod,
    All creatures from the hand of God.)

    And many of a hellish hue;
    But for some reason hard to view,
    Earth's bluish animals are few.

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  2. Huh. I think "Pied Beauty" is more of a fall poem for me. Winter is most closely associated with Frost's "Birches." And the changing of seasons is "Nothing Gold Can Stay."

    I'll have to think about summer and spring.

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