G. M. Hopkins poem of the day

Watched a redtail hawk float in the high winds from the crow's nest this morning, and was reminded of this poem by the Catholic mystic poet Gerard Manley Hopkins:

 

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, 

 

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: sheer plod makes plough down sillion 

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

Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.