On ear and ear two noises too old to end <br />Trench—right, the tide that ramps against the shore; <br />With a flood or a fall, low lull-off or all roar, <br />Frequenting there while moon shall wear and wend. <br /> <br />Left hand, off land, I hear the lark ascend, <br />His rash-fresh re-winded new-skeinèd score <br />In crisps of curl off wild winch whirl, and pour <br />And pelt music, till none ’s to spill nor spend. <br /> <br />How these two shame this shallow and frail town! <br />How ring right out our sordid turbid time, <br />Being pure! We, life’s pride and cared-for crown, <br /> <br />Have lost that cheer and charm of earth’s past prime: <br />Our make and making break, are breaking, down <br />To man’s last dust, drain fast towards man’s first slime.<br /><br />Gerard Manley Hopkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sea-and-the-skylark/
