Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Dappled
GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Not my God,
but my sense of glory in this glorious patterning.
Cambridge, 8.5.2005 ¶ 1:35 pm
GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Not my God,
but my sense of glory in this glorious patterning.
Cambridge, 8.5.2005 ¶ 1:35 pm
Comments:
<< Home
I remember studying that poem at school. It made little sense to a 12-year-old; I couldn't see beyond the words, and I think too I was put off by that first line.
It took about 30 years before I finally "got it". But I'm glad I did.
Or maybe in some way I did get it back then; I don't remember encountering it again, but I know the words stuck in my mind, waiting for the day, decades later, when suddenly something would click into place and they'd make sense.
Thanks for the reminder :-)
It took about 30 years before I finally "got it". But I'm glad I did.
Or maybe in some way I did get it back then; I don't remember encountering it again, but I know the words stuck in my mind, waiting for the day, decades later, when suddenly something would click into place and they'd make sense.
Thanks for the reminder :-)
Hopkins also has some of the most powerful poems about depression: "Carrion Comfort" and the one that contains the line, "Oh, the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall..."
Splendid photodappling, Jean.
Splendid photodappling, Jean.
I feel the same way as you do about GMH's poem. It's wonderful, and it speaks of the world's wonderful variegation, but to give credit for all that to some God-daddy is a kindergarten step I'm no longer willing to make.
Post a Comment
# posted by 
: 1:46 pm
: 1:46 pm<< Home
