I CAUGHT this morning morning’s minion,
king-
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dom
of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
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Of
the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
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High
there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
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In his
ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
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As
a skate’s heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
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Rebuffed
the big wind. My heart in hiding
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Stirred
for a bird,—the achieve of; the mastery of the thing!
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Brute
beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
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Buckle!
AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
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Times
told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!
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No
wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
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Shine,
and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
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Fall,
gall themselves, and gash gold-vermillion.
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I thought
I'd share this poem with you today. It's
a bit difficult to understand but if you
say it aloud the words flow and finish on that loveliest of words – vermillion (although
I would normally spell in with only one L).
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