The Windhover

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

From The song of Hiawatha

When he Heard the Owls at Midnight

When he heard the owls at midnight,
Hooting, laughing in the forest,
"What is that" he cried in terror;
"What is that?" he said, "Nokomis?"
And the good Nokomis answered:
"That is but the owl and owlet,
Talking in their native language,
Talking, scolding at each other."
Then the little Hiawatha
Learned of every bird its language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,
Where they built their nests in Summer,
Where they hid themselves in Winter,
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."
Of all beasts he learned the language,
Learned their names and all their secrets,
How the beavers built their lodges,
Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
Why the rabbit was so timid,
Talked with them whene'er he met them,
Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.