Gerard Manley Hopkins

(28 July 1844 – 8 June 1889 / Stratford, Essex)

God's Grandeur - Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge |&| shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast |&| with ah! bright wings.


Comments about God's Grandeur by Gerard Manley Hopkins

  • Rookie - 0 Points Cosheila Bihag (4/3/2015 7:14:00 PM)

    Super like this poem (Report) Reply

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  • Freshman - 765 Points Panmelys Panmelys Leschevin D'ere (4/3/2015 5:10:00 AM)

    It is greatness at its height. I don't see how traditional Anglo-Saxon sounds of Celtic, (Welsh) in his case: should be interpreted. The Sprung Rhythm is Cynghanedd (Harmonies of consonants) which he bravely uses in the Anglo-
    Saxon idiom so very successfully, so I suppose this is what Frank means. All I know is that it accomplishes all that Frank said, excitemnet, anticipation, reverence, and love for something called Hiraeth in Welsh: translated it means:
    A longing for something this world can never give. Emphasis on 'this' to imply the world elsewhere. Panmelys (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 7,376 Points Frank Avon (10/24/2014 2:44:00 PM)

    Such a splendid example of Hopkins' poetry at his best - with such a tender yet awesome message. Just the first four lines state the message in enduring, endearing terms. Here we see Hopkins' creative experimentation with language and form: his rhymes, including insistent internal rhymes, persistent alliteration and consonance, and what he called his sprung rhythm - a variation on traditional Anglo-Saxon tetrameter with heaped up unaccented syllables, creating a sense of excitement, anticipation, and yet reverence.

    The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
    It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
    It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
    Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: nature, world, god, spring



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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