On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People by Gerard Manley Hopkins A Brother and Sister   O I admire and sorrow! The heart’s eye grieves Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years. A juice rides rich through bluebells, in vine leaves, And beauty’s dearest veriest vein is tears.  Happy the father, mother of these! Too fast: Not that, but thus far, all with frailty, blest In one fair fall; but, for time’s aftercast, Creatures all heft, hope, hazard, interest.
21 Oct 2020 09:03

On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People by Gerard Manley Hopkins A Brother and Sister O I admire and sorrow! The heart’s eye grieves Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years. A juice rides rich through bluebells, in vine leaves, And beauty’s dearest veriest vein is tears. Happy the father, mother of these! Too fast: Not that, but thus far, all with frailty, blest In one fair fall; but, for time’s aftercast, Creatures all heft, hope, hazard, interest. 

On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People by Gerard Manley Hopkins
A Brother and Sister

O I admire and sorrow! The heart’s eye grieves
Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years.
A juice rides rich through bluebells, in vine leaves,
And beauty’s dearest veriest vein is tears.

Happy the father, mother of these! Too fast:
Not that, but thus far, all with frailty, blest
In one fair fall; but, for time’s aftercast,
Creatures all heft, hope, hazard, interest.

And are they thus? The fine, the fingering beams
Their young delightful hour do feature down
That fleeted else like day-dissolvиd dreams
Or ringlet-race on burling Barrow brown.

She leans on him with such contentment fond
As well the sister sits, would well the wife;
His looks, the soul’s own letters, see beyond,
Gaze on, and fall directly forth on life.

But ah, bright forelock, cluster that you are
Of favoured make and mind and health and youth,
Where lies your landmark, seamark, or soul’s star?
There’s none but truth can stead you. Christ is truth.

There ’s none but good can bй good, both for you
And what sways with you, maybe this sweet maid;
None good but God—a warning wavиd to
One once that was found wanting when Good weighed.

Man lives that list, that leaning in the will
No wisdom can forecast by gauge or guess,
The selfless self of self, most strange, most still,
Fast furled and all foredrawn to No or Yes.

Your feast of; that most in you earnest eye
May but call on your banes to more carouse.
Worst will the best. What worm was here, we cry,
To have havoc-pocked so, see, the hung-heavenward boughs?

Enough: corruption was the world’s first woe.
What need I strain my heart beyond my ken?
O but I bear my burning witness though
Against the wild and wanton work of men.

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  तद्बुद्धयस्तदात्मानस्तन्निष्ठास्तत्परायणा: | गच्छन्त्यपुनरावृत्तिं ज्ञाननिर्धूतकल्मषा: || 17||  tad-buddhayas tad-ātmānas tan-niṣhṭhās tat-parāyaṇāḥ gachchhantyapunar-āvṛittiṁ jñāna-nirdhūta-kalmaṣhāḥ Your browser does not support the HTML5 Audio element. tat-buddhayaḥ—those whose intellect is directed toward God; tat-ātmānaḥ—those whose heart (mind and intellect) is solely absorbed in God; tat-niṣhṭhāḥ—those whose intellect has firm faith in God; tat-parāyaṇāḥ—those who strive after God as the supreme goal and refuge; gachchhanti—go; apunaḥ-āvṛittim—not returning; jñāna—by knowledge; nirdhūta—dispelled; kalmaṣhāḥ—sins Translation  BG 5.17: Those whose intellect is fixed in God, who are wholly absorbed in God, with firm faith in Him as the supreme goal, such persons quickly reach the state from which there is no return, their sins having been dispelled by the light of knowledge. On the Portrait of Two Beautiful Young People by Gerard Manley Hopkins A Brother and Sister   O I admire and sorrow! The heart’s eye grieves Discovering you, dark tramplers, tyrant years. A juice rides rich through bluebells, in vine leaves, And beauty’s dearest veriest vein is tears.  Happy the father, mother of these! Too fast: Not that, but thus far, all with frailty, blest In one fair fall; but, for time’s aftercast, Creatures all heft, hope, hazard, interest. Ribblesdale by Gerard Manley Hopkins Earth, sweet Earth, sweet landscape, with leavés throng And louchéd low grass, heaven that dost appeal To, with no tongue to plead, no heart to feel; That canst but only be, but dost that long— Thou canst but be, but that thou well dost; strong Thy plea with him who dealt, nay does now deal, Thy lovely dale down thus and thus bids reel Thy river, and o'er gives all to rack or wrong.
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