Mer Gerard Manley Hopkins

Thou Art Indeed Just, Lord

Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend
   With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just.
   Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must
Disappointment all I endeavour end?
Wert thou my enemy, O thou my friend,
   How wouldst thou worse, I wonder, than thou dost
   Defeat, thwart me? Oh, the sots and thralls of lust
Do in spare hours more thrive than I that spend,

Sir, life upon thy cause. See, banks and brakes
   Now, leavèd how thick! lacèd they are again
With fretty chervil, look, and fresh wind shakes
   Them; birds build -- but not I build; no, but strain,
Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes.
   Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.