Gerard Manley Hopkins
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning:
The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle,
Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,
Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;
A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quite utterly.
This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily,
Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.
Gerard Manley Hopkins's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Moonrise by Gerard Manley Hopkins )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- "Twist these Big Tits Purple", Richard Thripp
- गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -66, Ronjoy Brahma
- Stories Are Created, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- When Fresh Fish Fails, Richard Thripp
- center, laxami Cards
- गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -65, Ronjoy Brahma
- Im sorry mom, claudia Fernandez
- Witless Innocence, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Sitters And Their Dreams, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- There Is Nothing I Can Do, Lawrence S. Pertillar