Moonrise by Gerard Manly HopkinsI awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning:The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle,Or paring of paradisaïcal fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless,Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain;A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quit utterly.This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily,Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.-----Prosodia is a daily podcast dedicated to historical notes and poems, hosted by Karim El Azhari. Welcome!All show notes are heavily recycled from old The Writer’s Almanac archives. May that podcast rest in peace (it was Karim’s favorite).All poems are public domain or submitted by the author for use on the show.Intro and outro music by Chillhop Records. They are amazing!