Serene Falcon

The Fire That Breaks

March 19th, 2008 at 5:20 pm (Other Writ, Poetry)

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.

Gerard Manley Hopkins : The Windhover