The Starlight

In dark drape all I brace—
In every voice thine emblem grace,
Where not only the fold would drop,
But I, collapsing, nab the air in bloom.

Singing a slumberous song,
All patterns arose in truth,
And in night’s silence, fell right.
This arc show a wave in smooth wrinkling, growth.

— Gerard Manley Hopkins

• Gerard Manley Hopkins