Monday, August 23, 2010

Poetry: Gerald Manley Hopkins

I Wake and Feel the Fell of Dark, Not Day

                               I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
                               What hours, O what black hours we have spent
                               This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
                               And more must, in yet longer light's delay.

                               With witness I speak this. But where I say
                               Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament
                               Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent
                               To dearest him that lives alas! away.

                               I am gall, I am heartburn. God's most deep decree
                               Bitter would have me taste: my taste was me;
                               Bones built in me, flesh filled, blood brimmed the curse.

                               Selfyeast of spirit a dull dough sours. I see
                               The lost are like this, and their scourge to be
                               As I am mine, their sweating selves, but worse.

By Jayson with No comments

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