world is charged with the grandeur of God.
will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Why do men then now not reck his rod?
have trod, have trod, have trod;
all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with
wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the
bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
for all this, nature is never spent;
lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
though the last lights off the black West went
morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
the Holy Ghost over the bent
broods with warm breast and with ah! bright
Gerard Manley Hopkins