Friday, November 11, 2005

do not despair, my fish

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

NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?

Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.

3 little fish:

Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

like jacob wrestling the angel?

interesting piece...the first line is nagging at me to remember something...

nay, do not despair! i agree with the mysfit.

3:37 PM  
Blogger mysfit swam up to say...

yea, do not despair - "carrion comfort" is a Dan Simmons book as well - maybe that's what's striking you

11:46 AM  
Blogger jenn see swam up to say...

for some reason i keep thinking of the butterfly from the Last Unicorn...

6:04 PM  

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