Today being so fair after a cold night, I took myself out for a ride between the villages. At one point, not far from Woodford Station, I could see vastly across the undulating hills of the valley to the north. Lines from Hopkins came unbidden into my head and stayed with me as I rode.

"I caught this morning's morning minion, king-

 dom of daylights dauphin, dapple dawn-drawn falcon, in his riding

 Of the rolling underneath him steady air, and striding....."

 

these, from the opening verse of "The Windhover."

Hopkins was a poet who celebrated his faith (the above poem has a dedication 'To Christ Our Lord') and his poems tumble richly from the pen, words almost tripping over each other, like dominoes set to fall, but somehow just hanging on. 

It is hard not to sense God in nature unless you are hardened against such a sentiment, which is a shame. I know that this is not a popular view. When I say sense, it is more like a whisper, which permeates both the head and the heart.

Hopkin's swung, 'from joy's height' (Flynn), something that is all but forgotten in the modern world.