The Windhover

I caught this morning morning's minion, kingdom 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 wind,

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 fro 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-beak embers, ah my dear,