NOTHING is so beautiful as spring |
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; |
Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush |
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring |
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; |
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush |
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush |
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. |
What is all this juice and all this joy? |
A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning |
In Eden garden. Have, get, before it cloy, |
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning, |
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy, |
Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning. |
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)