Sharing another of the «terrible sonnets» written by Hopkins. This master-piece shows the power of alliteration, it’s incredible how depression can be expressed in such a manner that we can be held captive by it after reading this poem.

All life death does end and each day dies with sleep.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,
More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring.
Comforter, where, where is your comforting?
Mary, mother of us, where is your relief?
My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief
Woe, wórld-sorrow; on an áge-old anvil wince and sing —
Then lull, then leave off. Fury had shrieked 'No ling-
ering! Let me be fell: force I must be brief."'

    O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall
Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap
May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our small
Durance deal with that steep or deep. Here! creep,
Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all
Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.

I’ve been studying this author for quite some time already, if you’re interested in getting to know more about him and his work, I’d be happy to write more about that. Just let me know. Thanks for reading, please like, share, and donate to support this project.