No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief, <br /> More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring. <br /> Comforter, where, where is your comforting? <br /> Mary, mother of us, where is your relief? <br /> My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief{\-} <br /> Woe, w{'o}rld-sorrow; on an {'a}ge-old {'a}nvil w{'i}nce and s{'i}ng -- <br /> <br /> Then lull, then leave off. Fury had shrieked "No ling- <br /> Ering! Let me be fell: force I must be brief." <br /> <br /> O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall <br /> Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap <br /> May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our small <br /> Durance deal with that steep or deep. Here! creep, <br /> Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all <br /> Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.<br /><br />Gerard Manley Hopkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-worst-there-is-none/
