Wanwood Leafmeal

If I write you a letter, there is a decent chance that I will write a Hopkins poem on the back of the envelope.

It’s fall, so I felt justified in pulling out “Spring and Fall” for a letter today – and you all get it too.

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

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In case you’d like to brush up on your “Wolterstorff on Justice”…

a lecture I attended about a month ago is now online, here: