As kíngfishers cátch fire, drágonflies dráw fláme; 
	As túmbled óver rím in róundy wélls 
	Stones ríng; like éach tucked stríng tells, éach hung béll's 
	Bow swúng finds tóngue to flíng out bróad its náme; 
	Each mórtal thíng does óne thing ánd the sáme: 
	Déals out that béing indoors éach one dwélls; 
	Selves-góes itsélf; mysélf it spéaks and spélls, 
	Crying Whát I dó is mé: for thát I cáme. 

	Í say móre: the júst man jústicés; 
	Keeps gráce: thát keeps áll his góings gráces; 
	Ácts in God's éye whát in God's éye he ís- 
	Christ-for Chríst pláys in ten thóusand pláces, 
	Lóvely in límbs, and lóvely in éyes not his 
	To the Fáther thróugh the féatures of méns's fáces. 
	
	
	Gerard Manley Hopkins