<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397244" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Habit of Perfection</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Elected Silence, sing to me<br>And beat upon my whorlèd ear, <br>Pipe me to pastures still and be <br>The music that I care to hear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:<br>It is the shut, the curfew sent <br>From there where all surrenders come<br>Which only makes you eloquent. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark <br>And find the uncreated light:<br>This ruck and reel which you remark <br>Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Palate, the hutch of tasty lust, <br>Desire not to be rinsed with wine: <br>The can must be so sweet, the crust<br>So fresh that come in fasts divine! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nostrils, your careless breath that spend <br>Upon the stir and keep of pride, <br>What relish shall the censers send <br>Along the sanctuary side!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet <br>That want the yield of plushy sward, <br>But you shall walk the golden street <br>And you unhouse and house the Lord. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, Poverty, be thou the bride<br>And now the marriage feast begun, <br>And lily-coloured clothes provide <br>Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gerard+Manley+Hopkins">Gerard Manley Hopkins</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=397244" data-title="The Habit of Perfection de Gerard Manley Hopkins" data-description="Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear. Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb: It is the shut, the curfew sent From there where all surrenders come Which only ma..."></div> </div> </div>

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