The Sea and the Skylark

Gerard Manley Hopkins's The Sea and the Skylark

Gerard Manley Hopkins’ The Sea and the Skylark is a meditation on the eternal beauty of nature and the transience of human civilization. Written in 1877 but not published until 1918, the poem reflects Hopkins’ deep engagement with the natural world as a manifestation of divine creation, while simultaneously lamenting humanity’s fall from grace. Through vivid imagery, innovative diction, and a profound sense of musicality, Hopkins contrasts the ceaseless purity of the sea and the skylark’s song with the moral and spiritual decay of modern life. This essay will explore the poem’s structure, its use of sound and rhythm, its thematic concerns, and its place within Hopkins’ broader body of work, as well as its relevance to Victorian anxieties about industrialization and faith.

The Eternal and the Ephemeral: Nature vs. Civilization

The poem opens with a striking juxtaposition of two natural sounds—the sea and the skylark—both described as “too old to end.” This phrase immediately establishes their timelessness, setting them in opposition to the “shallow and frail town” of human habitation. The sea is depicted with muscular force: it “ramps against the shore,” a verb suggesting both aggression and relentless motion. Hopkins’ use of alliteration (“trench—right, the tide”) and internal rhyme (“flood or a fall”) mimics the rhythmic crashing of waves, immersing the reader in the sensory experience. The sea’s movements are cyclical, tied to the moon’s phases, reinforcing its eternal, unchanging nature.

In contrast, the skylark’s song is a burst of spontaneous energy. Hopkins’ characteristic compound adjectives—“rash-fresh,” “re-winded,” “new-skeinèd”—convey the bird’s vitality, as if its music is constantly being rewoven. The description of its song as a “score” suggests both musical notation and an unspooling thread, an image reinforced by “crisps of curl off wild winch whirl.” The lark’s music is not just heard but felt—it “pelts” down, an almost physical force, until there is nothing left “to spill nor spend.” Unlike human creations, which are finite and prone to exhaustion, the lark’s song is endlessly renewable, a testament to nature’s abundance.

These two natural phenomena—the sea’s brute power and the lark’s delicate exuberance—serve as indictments of human frailty. The town is “shallow,” lacking depth, and “frail,” vulnerable to decay. The poem’s shift from description to direct commentary in the third stanza is abrupt and accusatory: “How these two shame this shallow and frail town!” The sea and the skylark “ring right out our sordid turbid time,” their purity exposing human corruption. The word “sordid” carries moral weight, suggesting not just dirtiness but moral degradation, while “turbid” implies a murky, muddied state, perhaps a reference to the pollution and moral confusion of the Industrial Age.

The Fall of Humanity: From Primeval Grace to Modern Decay

Hopkins, a Jesuit priest, often grappled with the tension between divine perfection and human imperfection. Here, he laments that humanity, once “life’s pride and cared-for crown,” has lost the “cheer and charm of earth’s past prime.” The phrasing evokes the biblical Fall—humanity was once exalted but is now in decline. The poem’s closing lines are apocalyptic: “Our make and making break, are breaking, down / To man’s last dust, drain fast towards man’s first slime.” The repetition of “break” and “breaking” suggests an ongoing collapse, while “last dust” echoes the biblical “dust to dust,” a reminder of mortality. The final image—of humanity draining back to “first slime”—is particularly striking, implying a regression to primordial ooze, a reversal of creation itself.

This grim vision aligns with Victorian anxieties about industrialization and secularization. The 19th century saw rapid technological progress, but also environmental destruction and a crisis of faith. Hopkins, though deeply religious, was not immune to these concerns. His poetry often reflects a tension between awe at God’s creation and despair at humanity’s alienation from it. The Sea and the Skylark can be read as an ecological lament, foreshadowing modern environmentalist thought in its contrast between nature’s sustainability and human destructiveness.

Sound and Rhythm: Hopkins’ Sonic Mastery

One cannot discuss Hopkins without addressing his innovative use of sound. His concept of “sprung rhythm”—a meter that mimics natural speech while maintaining a strong rhythmic pulse—is evident here. The poem’s lines vary in length and stress, creating a tidal ebb and flow that mirrors the sea’s movement. The dense alliteration (“low lull-off,” “wild winch whirl”) and assonance (“pour / And pelt”) give the poem a musical quality, reinforcing its themes. The skylark’s song, in particular, is rendered through rapid, spiraling consonants that mimic its flight: “rash-fresh re-winded new-skeinèd score” is almost tongue-twisting in its exuberance.

Hopkins also employs onomatopoeia to stunning effect. The sea’s “all roar” is thunderous, while the lark’s song is a “whirl” of sound. The contrast between the two noises—one deep and booming, the other high and frenetic—creates a stereophonic effect, as if the reader is standing between them, immersed in their duality. This sonic richness makes the poem not just a meditation on nature, but an embodiment of it.

Comparative Readings: Hopkins and the Romantics

Hopkins’ reverence for nature invites comparison with the Romantics, particularly Wordsworth and Shelley. Like Wordsworth, Hopkins finds spiritual solace in the natural world, but unlike the Romantics, his vision is more theologically structured. Where Wordsworth’s nature is pantheistic, Hopkins’ is unmistakably Christian—the sea and the skylark are not just beautiful but sacred, witnesses to God’s glory.

Shelley’s To a Skylark is an especially illuminating contrast. Shelley’s lark is a “blithe Spirit,” an ethereal being whose joy is unattainable for humans. Hopkins’ lark, however, is not just a symbol of unreachable beauty but a rebuke—its purity highlights human failure. Both poems express a sense of longing, but Hopkins’ is tinged with guilt, a recognition that humanity has fallen short of its divine potential.

Conclusion: A Poem for Then and Now

The Sea and the Skylark remains strikingly relevant. In an age of climate crisis and existential doubt, Hopkins’ lament over humanity’s disconnect from nature resonates deeply. His poem is both a celebration and an elegy—a tribute to the enduring beauty of the world and a mourning of our inability to live in harmony with it.

Ultimately, Hopkins offers no easy resolution. The poem ends in descent, not redemption. Yet, in its very act of witnessing—of holding both the sublime and the sorrowful in balance—there is a kind of hope. By giving voice to the sea and the skylark, Hopkins reminds us of what endures, even as we falter. In doing so, he affirms poetry’s power to bridge the gap between the human and the divine, if only for a fleeting moment.