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.
—G.M. Hopkins
Conversation
First read this a very long time ago in college and realized I had never read language like this and loved it ever since.
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One of my favorite poems...thank you. I must think of it every time I walk in nature.