{"id":10,"date":"2008-07-14T17:39:28","date_gmt":"2008-07-14T21:39:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/?p=10"},"modified":"2008-07-14T17:39:28","modified_gmt":"2008-07-14T21:39:28","slug":"the-leaden-echo-and-the-golden-echo-gerard-manley-hopkins","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/?p=10","title":{"rendered":"The Leaden Echo and The Golden Echo &#8211; Gerard Manley Hopkins"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>[audio:leadenecho.mp3] (4:44)<br \/>\n<span style=\"font-size: xx-small;\">read by Dylan Thomas, <em>The Caedmon Collection<\/em>.  audio from <a href=\"http:\/\/salon.com\" target=\"blank\">salon.com<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>The Leaden Echo<\/p>\n<p>How to k\u00e9ep\u2014is there \u00e1ny any, is there none such, nowhere known some, bow or brooch or braid or brace, l\u00e1ce, latch or catch or key to keep<br \/>\nBack beauty, keep it, beauty, beauty, beauty, &#8230; from vanishing away?<br \/>\n\u00d3 is there no frowning of these wrinkles, rank\u00e9d wrinkles deep,<br \/>\nD\u00f3wn? no waving off of these most mournful messengers, still messengers, sad and stealing messengers of grey?<br \/>\nNo there \u2019s none, there \u2019s none, O no there \u2019s none,<br \/>\nNor can you long be, what you now are, called fair,<br \/>\nDo what you may do, what, do what you may,<br \/>\nAnd wisdom is early to despair:<br \/>\nBe beginning; since, no, nothing can be done<br \/>\nTo keep at bay<br \/>\nAge and age\u2019s evils, hoar hair,<br \/>\nRuck and wrinkle, drooping, dying, death\u2019s worst, winding sheets, tombs and worms and tumbling to decay;<br \/>\nSo be beginning, be beginning to despair.<br \/>\nO there \u2019s none; no no no there \u2019s none:<br \/>\nBe beginning to despair, to despair,<br \/>\nDespair, despair, despair, despair.<\/p>\n<p>The Golden Echo<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"invis.gif\" alt=\"\" width=\"40\" height=\"1\" \/>Spare!<br \/>\nThere \u00eds one, yes I have one (Hush there!);<br \/>\nOnly not within seeing of the sun,<br \/>\nNot within the singeing of the strong sun,<br \/>\nTall sun\u2019s tingeing, or treacherous the tainting of the earth\u2019s air,<br \/>\nSomewhere elsewhere there is ah well where! one,<br \/>\nOn\u00e9. Yes I can tell such a key, I do know such a place,<br \/>\nWhere whatever\u2019s prized and passes of us, everything that \u2019s fresh and fast flying of us, seems to us sweet of us and swiftly away with, done away with, undone,<br \/>\nUndone, done with, soon done with, and yet dearly and dangerously sweet<br \/>\nOf us, the wimpled-water-dimpled, not-by-morning-match\u00e8d face,<br \/>\nThe flower of beauty, fleece of beauty, too too apt to, ah! to fleet,<br \/>\nNever fleets m\u00f3re, fastened with the tenderest truth<br \/>\nTo its own best being and its loveliness of youth: it is an everlastingness of, O it is an all youth!<br \/>\nCome then, your ways and airs and looks, locks, maiden gear, gallantry and gaiety and grace,<br \/>\nWinning ways, airs innocent, maiden manners, sweet looks, loose locks, long locks, lovelocks, gaygear, going gallant, girlgrace\u2014<br \/>\nResign them, sign them, seal them, send them, motion them with breath,<br \/>\nAnd with sighs soaring, soaring s\u00edghs deliver<br \/>\nThem; beauty-in-the-ghost, deliver it, early now, long before death<br \/>\nGive beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty\u2019s self and beauty\u2019s giver.<br \/>\nSee; not a hair is, not an eyelash, not the least lash lost; every hair<br \/>\nIs, hair of the head, numbered.<br \/>\nNay, what we had lighthanded left in surly the mere mould<br \/>\nWill have waked and have waxed and have walked with the wind what while we slept,<br \/>\nThis side, that side hurling a heavyheaded hundredfold<br \/>\nWhat while we, while we slumbered.<br \/>\nO then, weary then why should we tread? O why are we so haggard at the heart, so care-coiled, care-killed, so fagged, so fashed, so cogged, so cumbered,<br \/>\nWhen the thing we freely f\u00f3rfeit is kept with fonder a care,<br \/>\nFonder a care kept than we could have kept it, kept<br \/>\nFar with fonder a care (and we, we should have lost it) finer, fonder<br \/>\nA care kept.\u2014Where kept? Do but tell us where kept, where.\u2014<br \/>\nYonder.\u2014What high as that! We follow, now we follow.\u2014<br \/>\nYonder, yes yonder, yonder,<br \/>\nYonder.<\/p>\n<p>(1882)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[audio:leadenecho.mp3] (4:44) read by Dylan Thomas, The Caedmon Collection. audio from salon.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-audio","category-hush-there"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}