So sun goes low,
With enchantments that splendour a horizon,
This path I trod — leaving its warmth
To tell thee back, alas!
It takes a turn, quiet pond
Claiming each step to pay the eye from glory—
Hurries no knot, no wall— destructive light!

A dove be quickened bare,
With flight returned—allowing my groundless pause—
Hoard body’s soft renewal—
The smallness enters spaces fleet:
So far ye swallow, surrounded;

Then a slow line
When your distance folks abide;
For all root still teems!
In sun or winter’s barefoot weave,
It leaves with hands unseen.

And wonders on beds
Tell no sigh, but can glimmer by this way;
Through stretch and robe—a veil,
When calm espouses faith for unharmed hearts,
Sun’s glow follows the shore!

• Gerard Manley Hopkins