The Windhover 

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

To Christ our Lord


I caught this morning morning's minion, king -
   dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
   Of 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,
   As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
   Rebuffed 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
   Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

   No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
   Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
Gerard Manley Hopkins | Classic Poems

The Sea and the Skylark ] [ Windhover ] Spring ] Hurrahing in Harvest ] God's Grandeur ] The Wreck of the Deutschland ] The Caged Skylark ] Moonrise ] Inversnaid ] Pied Beauty ] as kingfishers catch fire ] In The Valley of the Elwy ] The May Magnificat ]






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