Poetry appreciation

I ran across the following poem in a poetry anthology while cleaning my room yesterday. While my room might have been cleaned sooner had I spent less time reading the book and simply put it in its place on the shelf, I prefer to think of the time spent as a "stop and smell the roses" moment (or more than moment).

I am much indebted to Dr Stewart for my appreciation of this poem since had it not been for his patience in speaking through it with me, I would not have spent any time tasting each line, each word.

God's Grandeur
The world is charged with the grandeur of God,
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is smeared with trade; bleared, smeared, with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And, for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
-Gerard Manley Hopkins