To what serves mortal beauty ' —dangerous; does set danc- <br />ing blood—the O-seal-that-so ' feature, flung prouder form <br />Than Purcell tune lets tread to? ' See: it does this: keeps warm <br />Men’s wits to the things that are; ' what good means—where a glance <br />Master more may than gaze, ' gaze out of countenance. <br />Those lovely lads once, wet-fresh ' windfalls of war’s storm, <br />How then should Gregory, a father, ' have gleanèd else from swarm- <br />ed Rome? But God to a nation ' dealt that day’s dear chance. <br />To man, that needs would worship ' block or barren stone, <br />Our law says: Love what are ' love’s worthiest, were all known; <br />World’s loveliest—men’s selves. Self ' flashes off frame and face. <br />What do then? how meet beauty? ' Merely meet it; own, <br />Home at heart, heaven’s sweet gift; ' then leave, let that alone. <br />Yea, wish that though, wish all, ' God’s better beauty, grace.<br /><br />Gerard Manley Hopkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-what-serves-mortal-beauty/
