The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
xxxxdom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his

riding

xxxxOf the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
xxxxAs a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and

gliding

xxxxRebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, - the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
xxxxBuckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
xxxxFall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.



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