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GerardManley Hopkins : Spring and Fall |
To A Young Child Márgarét, áre you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving1? Leáves, líke the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Áh! ás the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sórrow's spríngs áre the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It ís the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for. |
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| FOOTNOTES |
| 1 i.e. the trees are shedding their leaves |
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