Long live the weeds and wildness yet

Love this from gerard manley hopkins.

This darksome burn, horseback brown,
Its rollrock highroad roaring down,
IN coup and in comb, the fleece of its foam,
Flutes and low to the lake fall home.

A windpuff-bonnet of fawn froth,
Turns and twnidles over the broth,
Of a pool so pitchblack; fell frowning,
It turns and turns Despair to drowning.

Degged with dew, dappled with dew,
Are the groins of the braes which the brook runs through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.

What would the world be bereft of wet and wildness,
Let them be left; Oh let them be left,
Wildness and wet,
Long live the weeds and the wildness yet.