The shepherd's brow, fronting forked lightning, owns
The horror and the havoc and the glory
Of it. Angels fall, they are towers, from heaven-a story
Of just, majestical, and giant groans.
But man-we, scaffold of score brittle bones;
Who breathe, from groundlong babyhood to hoary
Age gasp; whose breath is our memento mori-
What bass is our viol for tragic tones?
He! Hand to mouth he lives, and voids with shame;
And, blazoned in however bold the name,
Man Jack the man is, just; his mate a hussy.
And I that die these deaths, that feed this flame,
That ... in smooth spoons spy life-s masque mirrored: tame
My tempests there, my fire and fever fussy.
The Shepherd-s Brow, Fronting Forked Lightning, Owns
Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Poem topics: breath, fire, heaven, life, bold, mouth, feed, story, flame, jack, tragic, score, shame, fever, horror, breathe, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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