Gerard Manley Hopkins

(28 July 1844 – 8 June 1889 / Stratford, Essex)

Gerard Manley Hopkins Poems

1. Strike, Churl 1/3/2003
2. The Silver Jubilee 1/3/2003
3. St. Alphonsus Rodriguez 1/3/2003
4. The Shepherd’s Brow, Fronting Forked Lightning, Owns 1/3/2003
5. The Half-Way House 11/25/2003
6. The Loss Of The Eurydice 1/3/2003
7. The Handsome Heart 1/3/2003
8. Tom's Garland 1/3/2003
9. To His Watch 1/3/2003
10. The Furl Of Fresh-Leaved Dogrose Down 1/3/2003
11. Penmaen Pool 1/3/2003
12. On The Portrait Of Two Beautiful Young People 1/3/2003
13. The Lantern Out Of Doors 1/3/2003
14. Summa 1/3/2003
15. Ribblesdale 1/3/2003
16. The Times Are Nightfall 1/3/2003
17. The May Magnificat 1/3/2003
18. St. Winefred's Well 1/3/2003
19. What Being In Rank-Old Nature 1/3/2003
20. My Own Heart Let Me Have More Have Pity On; Let 1/13/2003
21. To R.B. 1/3/2003
22. Patience, Hard Thing! The Hard Thing But To Pray 1/13/2003
23. The Sea Took Pity 1/3/2003
24. The Bugler's First Communion 1/3/2003
25. Barnfloor And Winepress 11/25/2003
26. What Shall I Do For The Land That Bred Me 1/3/2003
27. The Sea And The Skylark 1/3/2003
28. Spelt From Sibyl's Leaves 1/3/2003
29. The Soldier 1/3/2003
30. To Him Who Ever Thought With Love Of Me 1/3/2003
31. The Woodlark 1/3/2003
32. Moonrise 1/3/2003
33. To What Serves Mortal Beauty? 1/3/2003
34. To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot, My Life 1/13/2003
35. In Honour Of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez 1/13/2003
36. Repeat That, Repeat 1/3/2003
37. The Candle Indoors 1/3/2003
38. The Starlight Night 12/31/2002
39. Cheery Beggar 1/3/2003
40. Ash-Boughs 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Gerard Manley Hopkins

Heaven-Haven

I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail,
And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

Read the full of Heaven-Haven

The Lantern Out Of Doors

Sometimes a lantern moves along the night,
That interests our eyes. And who goes there?
I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where,
With, all down darkness wide, his wading light?

Men go by me whom either beauty bright
In mould or mind or what not else makes rare:
They rain against our much-thick and marsh air
Rich beams, till death or distance buys them quite.

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