To slip the surly bonds of Earth and dance
the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
To climb sunward and join the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, to do a hundred things you
have not dreamed of.
To wheel and soar and swing high in the sunlit
silence.
To hover there, and chase the shouting wind along,
and fling my eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .
To go up, up the long, delirious burning blue
and top the wind-swept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or ever eagle flew -
And, while with silent, lifting mind I'll trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touch the face of God.

David L.
Orlando, FL

To borrow from John Gillespie Magee, Jr.