170. Geburtstag Gerard Manley Hopkins

Gerard Manley Hopkins (* 28. Juli 1844 in Stratford bei London; † 8. Juni 1889 in Dublin) war ein britischer Lyriker und Jesuit, dessen Gedichte vor allem wegen der Lebendigkeit ihres Ausdrucks bewundert werden.

Wikipedia

Abbildung aus Wikipedia

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–89).  Poems.  1918.

36. The Leaden Echo and the Golden Echo

(Maidens’ song from St. Winefred’s Well)

THE LEADEN ECHO HOW to kéep—is there ány any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, láce, latch or catch or key to keep Back beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, … from vanishing away? Ó is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rankéd wrinkles deep, Dówn? no waving off of these most mournful messengers, still messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey? No there ’s none, there ’s none, O no there ’s none,         5 Nor can you long be, what you now are, called fair, Do what you may do, what, do what you may, And wisdom is early to despair: Be beginning; since, no, nothing can be done To keep at bay         10 Age and age’s evils, hoar hair, Ruck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death’s worst, winding sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay; So be beginning, be beginning to despair. O there ’s none; no no no there ’s none: Be beginning to despair, to despair,         15 Despair, despair, despair, despair.   THE GOLDEN ECHO         Spare! There ís one, yes I have one (Hush there!); Only not within seeing of the sun, Not within the singeing of the strong sun,         20 Tall sun’s tingeing, or treacherous the tainting of the earth’s air, Somewhere elsewhere there is ah well where! one, Oné. Yes I can tell such a key, I do know such a place, Where whatever’s prized and passes of us, everything that ’s fresh and fast flying of us, seems to us sweet of us and swiftly away with, done away with, undone, Undone, done with, soon done with, and yet dearly and dangerously sweet         25 Of us, the wimpled-water-dimpled, not-by-morning-matchèd face, The flower of beauty, fleece of beauty, too too apt to, ah! to fleet, Never fleets móre, fastened with the tenderest truth To its own best being and its loveliness of youth: it is an everlastingness of, O it is an all youth! Come then, your ways and airs and looks, locks, maiden gear, gallantry and gaiety and grace,         30 Winning ways, airs innocent, maiden manners, sweet looks, loose locks, long locks, lovelocks, gaygear, going gallant, girlgrace— Resign them, sign them, seal them, send them, motion them with breath, And with sighs soaring, soaring síghs deliver Them; beauty-in-the-ghost, deliver it, early now, long before death Give beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty’s self and beauty’s giver.         35 See; not a hair is, not an eyelash, not the least lash lost; every hair Is, hair of the head, numbered. Nay, what we had lighthanded left in surly the mere mould Will have waked and have waxed and have walked with the wind what while we slept, This side, that side hurling a heavyheaded hundredfold         40 What while we, while we slumbered. O then, weary then why When the thing we freely fórfeit is kept with fonder a care, Fonder a care kept than we could have kept it, kept Far with fonder a care (and we, we should have lost it) finer, fonder         45 A care kept.—Where kept? Do but tell us where kept, where.— Yonder.—What high as that! We follow, now we follow.—Yonder, yes yonder, yonder, Yonder. Richard Burton reads "The Leaden Echo" & "The Golden Echo":

 

Documentary in 5 parts:

 

 

34. ‘As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme’     AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme; 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; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:         5 Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.   Í say móre: the just man justices; Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces;         10 Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is— Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places, Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

2. Heaven—Haven

A nun takes the veil

I HAVE desired to go       Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail     And a few lilies blow.       And I have asked to be         5       Where no storms come, Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,     And out of the swing of the sea.

 

13. Pied Beauty

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;         5     And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.   All things counter, original, spare, strange;   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)     With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:         10                   Praise him. 7. God’s Grandeur     THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.   It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;   It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;         5   And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;   And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.   And for all this, nature is never spent;   There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;         10 And though the last lights off the black West went   Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— Because the Holy Ghost over the bent   World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

 

19. Binsey Poplars

felled 1879

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         5             That dandled a sandalled         Shadow that swam or sank On meadow and river and wind-wandering weed-winding bank.     O if we but knew what we do         When we delve or hew—         10     Hack and rack the growing green!         Since country is so tender     To touch, her being só slender,     That, like this sleek and seeing ball     But a prick will make no eye at all,         15     Where we, even where we mean             To mend her we end her,         When we hew or delve: After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.   Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve         20     Strokes of havoc únselve         The sweet especial scene,     Rural scene, a rural scene,     Sweet especial rural scene.