Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Happy Birthday Father Hopkins


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 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:
Praise him.

4 Comments:

At 7/29/09, 8:15 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey, that's my kid!

 
At 7/29/09, 9:59 AM, Blogger Jonathan G. Reinhardt said...

I was going to say... the young Hopkins seems awfully familiar.

 
At 7/29/09, 9:59 AM, Blogger Jonathan G. Reinhardt said...

I was going to say... the young Hopkins seems awfully familiar.

 
At 7/29/09, 6:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yeah, she wrote this poem the other day - it reminded me of something, and I pulled down my Hokins to find that she had produced the exact same poem. Think of the probability! I mentioned it to Everett, who decided it was cool enough to post on the blog.

Kids - go figure!

 

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