Page:Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1918.djvu/94

Rh And turns to wash it from her welling eyes

And breathes the blots off all with sighs on sighs.

Her glass is blest but she as good as blind

Holds till hand aches and wonders what is there;

Her glass drinks light, she darkles down behind,

All of her glorious gainings unaware.

I told you that she turned her mirror dim

Betweenwhiles, but she sees herself not Him.