Sharing a poem with you all -
Nothing is so beautiful as spring
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing; The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this juice and all this joy? A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844 - 1889
