Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spáre, strange;
Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)
With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:
—Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
|Glory|be to|God for|dappled|things—
For|skies of|couple-|colour as a|brinded|cow;
For|rose-moles|all in|stipple upon|trout that|swim;
|Landscape|plotted and|pieced—fold,|fallow, and|plough;
And|áll|trades, their|gear and|tackle and|trim.
|All things|counter, o|riginal,|spáre,|strange;
What|ever is|fickle,|frecklèd|(who knows|how?)
With|swíft,|slów; sweet,|sóur; a|dázzle,|dím;
He|fathers-|forth whose|beauty is|pást|change:
Lyric Dissections: Rendering Blood Memory in Natasha Trethewey's and Yusef Komunyakaa's Poetry of the Black Diaspora
Jul 01, 2013; I think what I have inherited to write is in my blood, in as much as my blood in the state of Mississippi was a problem, but that...