St Andrew's Day - patron saint of Scotland, my ancestral territory
- & other important occasions.
A poem long-loved, in part for the evocation of feeling recognisable
by all who've been inspired by things in nature.
More recently, the last three lines have been a support in grief & illness
-- "blue-bleak embers"; "sheer plod makes plough down sillion shine"
truly connects at times when your jaw aches as you consciously
relax it yet again from unconscious gritting as you work through another
mentally & physically pain-filled daily journey.

"I could bore you raving about sprung rhythm and Hopkin's life
as a Jesuit, but there is no point in that.
Everything you need to know about sprung rhythm can be explained
in this simple rule.
Read it ALOUD, in your head.
There is only one way that it can be intoned that will feel right."
(c) 2001 Alex Reineck (www.netspace.net.au/~tlaloc/mainpage.html)
... and you've gotta use the old UK way of saying falcon, rather
like fall-con
http://www.bartleby.com/122/12.html

The Windhover
To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dáwn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rólling level úndernéath him steady áir, & stríding
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 & gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, -- the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty & valour & 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 wónder of it: shéer plód makes plóugh down síllion
Shine, & blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gáll themsélves, & gásh góld-vermílion.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Labels: poetry

[permalink][comment] - posted by Mez @ 11/30/2002 09:42:00 pm