The shepherd's brow
The shepherd's brow fronting forked lightning, owns The horror and the havoc and the glory Of it. Angels fall, they are towers, from heaven - a story Of just, majestical, and giant groans. But man - we, scaffold of score brittle bones; Who breathe, from groundlong babyhood to hoary Age gasp; whose breath is our memento mori - What bass is our viol for tragic tones? He! Hand to mouth he lives, and voids with shame; And, blazoned in however bold the name, Man Jack the man is, just; his mate a hussy. And I that die these deaths, that feed this flame, That ... in smooth spoons spy life's masque mirrored: tame My tempests there, my fire and fever fussy.
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"The shepherd's brow fronting forked lightning, owns..."
Gerard Manley Hopkins's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The shepherd's brow"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...