Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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-vermillion.

The Plain Truth of the Matter by Sean O'Brien

There are two tribes this world can boast -
The Marmite-lovers and the damned.
Fact is, though, everybody's toast,
Whatever breakfast they've got planned.

It's not for us to turn away
The sort who shun the dark-brown jar,
But sure as sure come Judgement Day
The Lord will know who His folk are.

from November