O if we but knew what we do
When we delve or hew,
Hack and rack the growing green!
Since country is so tender
To touch, her being so slender,
That, like this leek and seeing ball
But a prick will make no eye at all,
Where we, even where we mean
To mend her we end her,
When we hew or delve:
After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.
Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
Strokes of havoc unselve
The sweet especial scene,
Rural scene, a rural scene,
Sweet especial rural scene.
Gerald Manley Hopkins (1844 - 1889).
The poetry of things
The Natural World: all creatures, great and small.