Gerard Manley Hopkins

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

Gerard Manley Hopkins Poems

1. A Vision of the Mermaids 11/13/2015
2. It Was A Hard Thing To Undo This Knot 6/25/2015
3. The Silver Jubilee 1/3/2003
4. The Shepherd’s Brow, Fronting Forked Lightning, Owns 1/3/2003
5. The Furl Of Fresh-Leaved Dogrose Down 1/3/2003
6. Tom's Garland 1/3/2003
7. St. Alphonsus Rodriguez 1/3/2003
8. Strike, Churl 1/3/2003
9. The Half-Way House 11/25/2003
10. The Handsome Heart 1/3/2003
11. To His Watch 1/3/2003
12. Penmaen Pool 1/3/2003
13. The Lantern Out Of Doors 1/3/2003
14. The Sea Took Pity 1/3/2003
15. Ribblesdale 1/3/2003
16. The May Magnificat 1/3/2003
17. St. Winefred's Well 1/3/2003
18. What Being In Rank-Old Nature 1/3/2003
19. The Woodlark 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. On The Portrait Of Two Beautiful Young People 1/3/2003
23. Spelt From Sibyl's Leaves 1/3/2003
24. The Soldier 1/3/2003
25. Summa 1/3/2003
26. The Candle Indoors 1/3/2003
27. Barnfloor And Winepress 11/25/2003
28. Patience, Hard Thing! The Hard Thing But To Pray 1/13/2003
29. To Him Who Ever Thought With Love Of Me 1/3/2003
30. To Seem The Stranger Lies My Lot, My Life 1/13/2003
31. The Bugler's First Communion 1/3/2003
32. The Sea And The Skylark 1/3/2003
33. My Own Heart Let Me More Have Pity On 1/3/2003
34. What Shall I Do For The Land That Bred Me 1/3/2003
35. To What Serves Mortal Beauty? 1/3/2003
36. Thee, God, I Come From 1/3/2003
37. The Loss Of The Eurydice 1/3/2003
38. May Magnificat 1/13/2003
39. Moonrise 1/3/2003
40. In Honour Of St. Alphonsus Rodriguez 1/13/2003
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

Tom's Garland

upon the Unemployed


Tom—garlanded with squat and surly steel
Tom; then Tom’s fallowbootfellow piles pick
By him and rips out rockfire homeforth—sturdy Dick;
Tom Heart-at-ease, Tom Navvy: he is all for his meal
Sure, ’s bed now. Low be it: lustily he his low lot (feel
That ne’er need hunger, Tom; Tom seldom sick,

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