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...
Gerard Manley Hopkins, The Windhover
taken into account, obscurely dreamed
I caught this morning's Mourning
in its gleam
the text of leaving green
on the milk white skies.
goodbye to the leaves
was scrawled on the evening wind
I have seen this before you murmured soft
and then
you turned to go inside
and from the turret window, despite the
upstair's tenants' noise, the sudden slams
a glimmering sped in the breeze
and we could not answer
was it birds or leaves.
mary angela douglas 30 november 2016