The 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-vermilion.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Hopkins described this poem as 'the best thing I ever wrote', and the first verse is a real tour-de-force. Anyone who has watched a kestrel hunting will know how accurate the description is, but to actually catch the poetry of the bird in flight in this way is something else. I wonder if Nick Cave had been reading Hopkins' sprung rhythms when he wrote Breathless. In fact, you can sing 'The Windhover' to that quirky calypso melody. Go on, try it.