by Gerard Manley Hopkins
‘The child is father to the man.’
How can he be? The words are wild.
Suck any sense from that who can:
‘The child is father to the man.’
No; what the poet did write ran,
‘The man is father to the child.’
‘The child is father to the man!’
How can he be? The words are wild.
* * *
Who would've known? Hopkins wrote a triolet too!
2 comments:
Eery! I had just found this poem on my own, and was going to send it to you.
Actually I have collected several poems over the last two months that I think you'll like.
In short, I should stop blog-surfing and write to you like I've been meaning to all semester!
Regarding the triolet: when I find a triolet by T.S. Eliot, then I will believe that pigs can fly and that everything really does depend upon a red wheelbarrow.
I actually recently discovered the Secret of the Red Wheelbarrow. At least, I hadn't realized it before: each "stanza" is shaped like a wheelbarrow. So there is something more to it than white chickens.
Yes, you should write to me. I've been keeping up on your blog, but otherwise all my Rome news is from Andreth.
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