Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Now no matter, child, the name;
Sorrow’s springs are just the same:
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
“Spring and Fall, to a Young Child,” by Gerard Manley Hopkins