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The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, llike shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then and now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; 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; 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.
--Gerard Manley Hopkins, God's Grandeur as quoted in The Rag and Bone Shop of the Heart