poetry friday: my own heart.

My profile picture here, as you may or may not know, is a photograph of the surprisingly-handsome Gerard Manley Hopkins. He is absolutely my favorite poet, no competition, and yesterday (28 July) was his 172 birthday. I tried to write a post for the occasion about what he means to me. It turned into a bit of an essay, and I've decided to save it and post it when I've thought about it more and managed to polish it up.

In lieu of my pontifications, I'm sharing my very favorite Hopkins poem, "My Own Heart." It's one of his most hopeful poems—an exhausted hope, but one that has gotten me through some very tough times. "Leave comfort root-room": it's a reminder, and a challenge, that I often need.

Happy birthday, Fr. Gerard, and thanks.

My own heart let me have more have pity on; let
Me live to my sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst’s all-in-all in all a world of wet.

Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
’s not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather—as skies
Betweenpie mountains—lights a lovely mile.

Here's the roundup.

theses.

o dark dark dark. they all go into the dark,
the vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
the captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,
the generous patrons of art, the statesmen & the rulers, 
distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees, 
industrial lords & petty contractors, all go into the dark,
& dark the sun & moon, & the almanach de gotha, 
& the stock exchange gazette, the directory of directors, 
& cold the sense & lost the motive of action. 
& we all go with them, into the silent funeral,
nobody's funeral, for there is no one to bury.
i said to my soul, be still, & let the dark come upon you,
which shall be the darkness of God. 

♥ ♥ ♥

i am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
so it is, & so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
into the darkness they go, the wise & the lovely. crowned
with lilies & with laurel they go: but i am not resigned.

♥ ♥ ♥

& for all this, nature is never spent;
there lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
& 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.