The Kingfisher and Johann Hari

As a rather heavy post is up next (actually I wrote it first), here's a great poem to lift the spirits (hopefully) by Victorian Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins. I felt the need to post it tonight. 

The Kingfisher

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.
I say móre: the just man justices;

Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.

And, if the next-up post is still depressing you as much as it's depressing me, here's a joke from former star columnist at the Independent Johann Hari (or not) that tickled my funny bone this evening:

I've just invented a new word: "Plagiarism".