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 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.
FLYING WEST
'I hope there's a place, way up In the sky,
Where pilots can go, when they have to die.
A place where a guy can buy a cold beer
For a friend and a comrade, whose memory is dear;
A place where no doctor or lawyer can tread ,
Nor a management type would ere be caught dead;
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
Where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke;
The kind of a place where a lady could go
And feel safe and protected, by the men she would know.
There must be a place where old pilots go,
When their paining is finished, and their airspeed gets low,
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
And songs about flying and dying are sung,
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd flown west before,
And they'd call out your name, as you came through the door.
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
And relate to the others, "He was quite a good lad!"
And then through the mist, you'd spot an old guy
You had not seen in years, though he taught you to fly.
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear;
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased that you're here."
"For this is the place where true flyers come,"
"When their journey is over, and the war has been won."
"They've come here at' last to be safe and alone"
"From the government clerks and the management clone,"
"Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise,"
"Where all hours are happy, and these good ole boys"
"Can relax with a cool one, and a well deserved rest;"
"This is heaven, my son You've passed your last test!"
Author Unknown
JUST A COMMON SOLDIER
(A Soldier Died Today)
by A. Lawrence Vaincourt
He was getting old and
paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion,
telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought
in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
they were heroes, every one.
And tho' sometimes, to his neighbors,
his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened,
for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no
longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer,
for a soldier died today.
He will not be mourned by many,
just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and
quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family,
quietly going his own way,
And the world won't note his
passing, though a soldier died today.
When politicians leave this earth,
their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing
and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell their whole life
stories, from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier
goes unnoticed and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution
to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises
and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who,
in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country
and offers up his life?
A politician's stipend and the
style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier,
who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal
and perhaps, a pension small.
It's so easy to forget them for
it was so long ago,
That the old Bills of our Country
went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians,
with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that
our Country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger,
with your enemies at hand,
Would you want a politician
with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier,
who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and Country
and would fight until the end?
He was just a common soldier
and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind
us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict,
then we find the soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles
that the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honor while
he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him
homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline
in a paper that would say,
Our Country is in mourning,
for a soldier died today.
© 1985 A. Lawrence Vaincourt