The following poem by the Jesuit Gerard Manley Hopkins has always been a favorite of mine since my first exposure to it in high school. I don't think I've ever encountered a poet whose language usage is so rich and densely packed with meaning, with an unrivaled beauty of rhythm. Here it is: 
Brothers 
How lovely the elder brother’s 
Life all laced in the other’s, 
Lóve-laced!—what once I well 
Witnessed; so fortune fell. 
When Shrovetide, two years gone, 
Our boys’ plays brought on 
Part was picked for John, 
Young Jóhn: then fear, then joy 
Ran revel in the elder boy. 
Their night was come now; all 
Our company thronged the hall; 
Henry, by the wall, 
Beckoned me beside him: 
I came where called, and eyed him 
By meanwhiles; making my play 
Turn most on tender byplay. 
For, wrung all on love’s rack, 
My lad, and lost in Jack, 
Smiled, blushed, and bit his lip; 
Or drove, with a diver’s dip, 
Clutched hands down through clasped knees— 
Truth’s tokens tricks like these, 
Old telltales, with what stress 
He hung on the imp’s success. 
Now the other was bráss-bóld: 
Hé had no work to hold 
His heart up at the strain; 
Nay, roguish ran the vein. 
Two tedious acts were past; 
Jack’s call and cue at last; 
When Henry, heart-forsook, 
Dropped eyes and dared not look. 
Eh, how áll rúng! 
Young dog, he did give tongue! 
But Harry—in his hands he has flung 
His tear-tricked cheeks of flame 
For fond love and for shame. 
Ah Nature, framed in fault, 
There’s comfort then, there’s salt; 
Nature, bad, base, and blind, 
Dearly thou canst be kind; 
There dearly thén, deárly, 
I’ll cry thou canst be kind.
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