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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 will weep & know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
You look awfully sad in this photo. A writer's sensibility already?
ReplyDeleteI can't find, anywhere, a childhood photo of myself where I was smiling. It's hard, when your father has been sexually abusing you and you have to keep it quiet. But my mother was always telling me to smile.
ReplyDelete