God's Grandeur
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HE 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 oilCrushed. 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 soilIs 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.
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