He's So Manley

I've been walking around Cambridge for the last few days with one of my favorite poems in my head; some people get songs stuck in their heads, but for me, it's poems. Dorky, I know. Anyway, it's by Gerard Manley Hopkins (hence the exceedingly dorkalicious and otherwise-misspelled title of this post). Here goes:

Spring and Fall
to a young child

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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 heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.