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.