The Windhover
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- 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 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
- 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.
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