| | Lost another person close to me.
Third funeral I've had this year,
and it is a melancholy thing for,
as the days go by,
I keep thinking of things I want to tell them about,
or questions I want to ask,
and now it is too late,
and I,
and they,
shall never know.
The following poem has been playing over and over in my head; an ohrwurm.
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 and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and 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.
-- Gerald Manley Hopkins
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| | Posted 6/11/2007 9:32 PM - 3 views - 3 comments
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