. . . . . . . . <br />Hope holds to Christ the mind’s own mirror out <br />To take His lovely likeness more and more. <br />It will not well, so she would bring about <br />An ever brighter burnish than before <br />And turns to wash it from her welling eyes <br />And breathes the blots off all with sighs on sighs. <br />Her glass is blest but she as good as blind <br />Holds till hand aches and wonders what is there; <br />Her glass drinks light, she darkles down behind, <br />All of her glorious gainings unaware. <br />. . . . . . . . <br />I told you that she turned her mirror dim <br />Betweenwhiles, but she sees herself not Him. <br />. . . . . . . .<br /><br />Gerard Manley Hopkins<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hope-holds-to-christ/
