The Windhover 

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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: shéer plód makes plough down sillion 
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, 
   Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

--- On Fri, 12/24/10, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

Some Beethoven
Enjoy, s'il vous plaît.

--- On Thu, 12/23/10, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

"This is the spring time / But not in time's covenant."  
"Never and always."
 Season's Greetings.