God's Grandeur

THE WORLD is charged with the grandeur of God.  
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;  
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed.
Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;     
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;  
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell:
the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.  
And for all this, nature is never spent;  
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;       
And 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.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins