My prayers must meet a brazen heaven
And fail or scatter all away.
Unclean and seeming unforgiven
My prayers I scarcely call to pray.
I cannot buoy my heart above;
Above it cannot entrance win.
I reckon precedents of love,
But feel the long success of sin.
My heaven is brass and iron my earth.
Yea iron is mingled with my clay,
So harden’d is it in this dearth
Which praying fails to do away.
Not tears nor tears this clay uncouth
Could mould, if any years there were.
A warfare of my lips in truth,
Battling with God, is now my prayer.
-Gerard Manley Hopkins
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