名人诗歌|God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur^{1 of God.}

It will flame out， like shining from shook foil；

It gathers to a greatness， like the ooze^{2 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^{3 with toil4；}

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^{5 eastward6， springs}

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent⁷

World broods with warm breast and with ah！ bright wings.