Nothing is so beautiful as spring--
When weeds, in wheels,
shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush's eggs look little
low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber
does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like
lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms,
they brush
The descending blue;
that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too
have fair their fling.
What is all this juice
and all this joy?
A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden.--Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ,
lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid's child, thy choice
and worthy the winning.

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)