As regular readers know, I love the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins. I tend to think of his poetry as playful. He can leap from image to image showing the uniqueness of each thing and how God is manifest everywhere: “The world is charged with the grandeur of God” or “Glory be to God for dappled things.”
There was, however, a darker side of depression and near despair to him and, much of the time, closer to his broken spirit were probably lines like these:
My own heart let me more have pity on; let
Me live to my own sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst’s all-in-all in all a world of wet.
Hopkins died at 44.