3 December 2020 Gerard Manley Hopkins Nothing is so beautiful as spring – when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
3 December 2020 Gerard Manley Hopkins It is a happy thing that there is no royal road to poetry. The world should know by this time that one cannot reach Parnassus except by flying thither.
