Another from Gerard Manley Hopkins.
Glory be to God for dappled things--
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
More than most poems that I post, this one wants to be enunciated with exact clarity. Each syllable needs its own space, each stress must have its time. Don't rush, and you will feel the words forming themselves in your mouth in a glorious way.