Sheer and clear

NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;

Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man

In me or, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;

Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.

But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me

Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan

With darksome devouring eyes my bruised bones? and fan,

O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?

Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.

Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,

Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, cheer.

Cheer whom though? The hero whose heaven-handling flung me, foot trod

Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year

Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1885

5 Comments so far

  1. Marianne wrote:

    This is one of my very favorite pieces of writing. What a nice start to my morning.

  2. Erin J. wrote:

    I’m so glad, Marianne; we were just introduced to this poem in Micro class and I think it has become one of my favorites as well. :)

  3. Noah wrote:

    Erin,
    This is probably your best picture. I don’t mean it is my favorite, I mean objectively the best. Also, the one of the bluehouse windows at night is probably your second best. Well done.

  4. Erin J. wrote:

    Thanks, Noah! I really appreciate that.

  5. Sam wrote:

    Yay! that is one of my favorite poems, too!