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Gerard Manley Hopkins - The Woodlark
Work rating: Low

Teevo cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, what can tháat be?  
Weedio-weedio: there again!  
So tiny a trickle of sóng-strain;  
And all round not to be found
For brier, bough, furrow, or gréen ground  
Before or behind or far or at hand  
Either left either right  
Anywhere in the súnlight.  
Well, after all! Ah but hark—
‘I am the little wóodlark.
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  
To-day the sky is two and two  
With white strokes and strains of the blue
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  
Round a ring, around a ring  
And while I sail (must listen) I sing
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
The skylark is my cousin and he  
Is known to men more than me
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  
          …when the cry within  
Says Go on then I go on  
Till the longing is less and the good gone
  
But down drop, if it says Stop,  
To the all-a-leaf of the tréetop  
And after that off the bough
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  
I ám so véry, O soó very glad  
That I dó thínk there is not to be had…
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   . 
The blue wheat-acre is underneath  
And the braided ear breaks out of the sheath,  
The ear in milk, lush the sash,  
And crush-silk poppies aflash,  
The blood-gush blade-gash
Flame-rash rudred  
Bud shelling or broad-shed  
Tatter-tassel-tangled and dingle-a-dangled  
Dandy-hung dainty head.
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  
And down … the furrow dry
Sunspurge and oxeye  
And laced-leaved lovely  
Foam-tuft fumitory
   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .  
Through the velvety wind V-winged  
To the nest’s nook I balance and buoy
With a sweet joy of a sweet joy,  
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy  
Of a sweet—a sweet—sweet—joy.’
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