the windhover

i once memorized this poem (also by hopkins) as a gift for my grandfather, not even knowing that the origin of his own name meant "falcon".

the windhover: to Christ our Lord

i caught this morning morning's minion, kingdom
of daylight's dauphin, dapple dawn-drawn falcon in his riding
and of the rolling level underneath him steady air and striding
high there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
in his ecstacy!
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 stirrred for a bird--the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

brute beauty and valor and act, oh air, pride, plume here buckle
and the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion times told lovelier,
more dangerous, my chevalier!

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.