Tuesday, February 24, 2015
He dressed for Hopkins that morning and sat alone at the Greek cafe in Beverly Hills, reading of Jackself and thwarted passion, the ice in his glass melting. He waited for pie.
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.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet.
Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
's not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather — as skies
Betweenpie mountains — lights a lovely mile.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Too perfect for words. Mine, at least.ReplyDelete
"leave comfort root-room" this is good today, thank you, Elizabeth.ReplyDelete
We should have ordered pie. With a side of Pied Beauty.ReplyDelete