,This darksome burn, horseback brown
,His rollrock highroad roaring down
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
.Flutes and low to the lake falls home
,Felix Randal the farrier, O is he dead then? my duty all ended
Who have watched his mould of man, big-boned and hardy-handsome
Pining, pining, till time when reason rambled in it, and some
?Fatal four disorders, fleshed there, all contended
,My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun
;All felled, felled, are all felled
Of a fresh and following folded rank
Not spared, not one
!Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies
!O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air
!The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there
!Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves’-eyes
;As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
;Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name
My own heart let me more have pity on; let
,Me live to my sad self hereafter kind
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
.With this tormented mind tormenting yet
;Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
;In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can
.Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be
,No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief
.More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring
?Comforter, where, where is your comforting
?Mary, mother of us, where is your relief
هو جيرارد مانلي هوبكنز يعتبر من أعظم شعراء العصر الفيكتوري ونظرًا لأن أسلوبه كان مختلفًا تمامًا عن أسلوب معاصريه، لم يتم قبول أفضل قصائده للنشر خلال حياته
