Clifton Gorge

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Balsam floods the woods, 

     swathing（包围） our senses 

 like moss swaddles roots and earth. 

     Ferns flutter in the shadow 

 of the wind moving through, 

     while we descend into the sanctuary（避难所） 

 of the gorge like the sun lowers 

     its long beams through the green 

 lattice of leaves above. We hope 

     to hit bottom as the thrush（画眉） 

throws its deep voice across the ravine 

     where a woodpecker knocks on a door 

 of oak and a lip of limestone loosens, 

     tumbles down, greets us at the stream, 

 which even now rips through rock, 

     then pools its energy along the banks 

 where minnows animate 

     the ruin, stirring the cup 

 brimming with revival, their small bodies, 

     flashes of hallelujah.