File spoon-archives/bhaskar.archive/bhaskar_2003/bhaskar.0312, message 91


Date: Tue, 09 Dec 2003 12:11:49 -0600
From: Carrol Cox <cbcox-AT-ilstu.edu>
Subject: BHA: The Windhover, properly formatted


This poem deserves not to have hanging lines. cbc

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



     --- from list bhaskar-AT-lists.village.virginia.edu ---

   

Driftline Main Page

 

Display software: ArchTracker © Malgosia Askanas, 2000-2005