Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889).  Poems.  1918. 

                       12. The Windhover: 

                          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,                          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
        Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!                   10

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

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