“And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; pop
And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.”—Gerard Manley Hopkins, “God’s Grandeur,” from Poems (1918)
I took the image accompanying this post four years ago one morning from the shores of Lake Chautauqua in upstate New York.
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