Sound and Arrangement

 

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-vermillion.