GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS(1844-1889)

What god these frail reeds gathers,

escaping the petty sins of their dreamy minds

and the fear of living, what god

these sticks of woods would put to bear

the weight of the godhead, terrible and alien,

spread to men? What god

would call the weak and failing, those lost

and on solitary paths to silence, to

stand and preach and be

more solid than the muscular statues adorning

the temples on whose corridors they

like shadows of lost bats flutter?

03.09.2017