I'm in a Hopkins mood today, so even though I shared this poem just a few months back, this is the perfect time of year to revisit it. It's also one of my favorite Hopkins poems and one of my favorite poems altogether.
So, please pardon my redundancy and enjoy this exquisite piece of work:
Spring and Fall
to a young child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By & by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep & know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
The Poetry Friday round-up can be found here today at Two Writing Teachers.