Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks arise
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?
I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our
And, éyes, heárt, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love's greeting of realer, of rounder replies?
And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding
Majestic—as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet!—
These things, these things were here and but the
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him,
O half hurls earth for him off under
- "Hurrahing in the Harvest", Gerard Manley Hopkins