august 2021

04aug2:00 pm4:00 pmGerard Manley Hopkins: The Windhover*NEW DATE*2:00 pm - 4:00 pm VIRTUALType Of Study:LiteratureFrequency:One Off EventDuration:One day


Event Details

Gerard Manley Hopkins:
The Windhover

Composed on 30 May 1887, Hopkins called The Windhover “the best thing I ever wrote” and, since its publication it has been celebrated for its daring, innovative language and stunningly accurate evocation of a kestrel in mid-flight.  The intensity of the poem’s rhythm and experimental use of form still has the ability to startle us with its freshness and anticipates the work of modernist poets on whom Hopkins was a major influence. The powerful ‘sprung rhythm’ meter makes it a challenging but very satisfying poem to read aloud.

Over the course of two hours we will study the work in depth, look at its form and construction and, through repeated readings, unlock the secrets of this acclaimed poem.

Salon Details:      

  • Facilitated by:  Caroline Hammond
  • Single meeting study: Wednesday 4 August 2021, 2-4.00pm
  • £25 includes background materials and opening notes

TO REGISTER for the study, please use the secure Paypal payment button below to pay £25. Contact us if you prefer to pay by direct bank transfer. Opening notes will be sent shortly after registration. The study is limited to 10 participants. Please contact us if you have any questions.


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-vermilion.