Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009

(to a Young Child)

Margaret, are you grieving

Over Goldengrove unleaving?

Leaves, like the things of man, you

With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?

Ah! as the heart goes older

It will come to such sights colder

By and by, nor spare a sigh

Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;

And yet you will weep and know why.

Now no matter, child, the name:

Sorrow’s springs are the same.

Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed

What heart heard of, ghost guessed:

It is the blight man was born for,

It is Margaret you mourn for.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1880

Posted on Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009 at 3:45 pm.
Belongs with: Brief Things, Photo Things.
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