Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust
So fresh that come in fasts divine!
Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!
O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet
That want the yield of plushy sward,
But you shall walk the golden street
And you unhouse and house the Lord.
And, Poverty, be thou the bride
And now the marriage feast begun,
And lily-coloured clothes provide
Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun.
In order to be ordained to the Jesuit priesthood, as Hopkins was in 1870, a novitiate needs to take the  three vows  of Poverty, Chastity and Obedience. This was the decision of a lifetime. Taking vows of Poverty, in this decade, meant committing yourself to a life of squalor, struggle and almost surely premature death. In 1868, a newly minted 21-year-old Jesuit priest could expect to  live to age 45  (as Hopkins did, exactly), which is half the lifespan the average non-priest would live. 
 No wonder the man had to write poems to convince himself.