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.