Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889)

The Windhover 1877

To Christ Our Lord

I caught this morning morning’s minion,° king- favorite

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, 5

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 10

Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion° furrow

Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,

Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.