Poetry

HIGH FLIGHT


 HIGH FLIGHT

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and
soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air,
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the windswept heights with
easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew
. And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of
God.

By John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

Born 1922 in Shanghai, China
of missionary parents
Died 1941 in a Spitfire over
Europe - Age 19