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Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:15 pm Poetry

I was going to put this in fanfic, but:
1. It's not original poetry, (for the most part)
2. Most song lyrics are poems, and we have that topic here
3. I am so totally obsessed with autumn and poetry atm,

Quote:

MY NOVEMBER GUEST
by Robert Frost

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.

Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist.

The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.

Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

Last edited by Theresa on Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:30 pm; edited 1 time in total

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:17 pm

Quote:

Nothing Gold can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:21 pm

Quote:

The Soldier

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.

Quote:

The Road not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-Robert Frost (both)

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Omet'Ikilan
Jem'hadar First

Joined: 28 Jul 2004
Posts: 2045
Location: Bridge of Jem'Hadar Ship

Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:46 pm

Quote:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

Tus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

by Edger Allan Poe

Last edited by Omet'Ikilan on Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:58 pm; edited 1 time in total

-------signature-------

Founder wrote:

"Praise be to Allah! We will a great party with many fireworks and the smoke will eradicate the life within all bodies!"

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:53 pm

Edgar Allan Poe

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:55 pm

Quote:

To Autumn

Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-
eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o'er-brimmed their
clammy cells.

--John Keats

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 4:17 pm

Quote:

A peanut sitting on a railroad track,
it's heart was all aflutter,
along came a train,
TOOT TOOT,
peanut butter.

-I have no idea,

My grandmother used to say that,

Last edited by Theresa on Mon Aug 16, 2004 5:36 pm; edited 1 time in total

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Sam Kenobi
Not a Duke

Joined: 13 Jun 2003
Posts: 10373
Location: The 'Verse

Mon Aug 16, 2004 4:28 pm

Theresa wrote:

Quote:

-Robert Frost

that's my favorite poem

Starbuck
faster...

Joined: 19 Feb 2003
Posts: 8715
Location: between chaos and melody

Mon Aug 16, 2004 5:08 pm

Quote:

Invictus
Out of the night that covers me
Black as the pit from pole to pole
I thank whatever Gods may be
For my unconqurable soul

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the Bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloodied but unbowed

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
looms but the horror of the shade
and yet the meniace of the years
finds and shall find me unafraid

It matters not how straight the gate
how charged with punishment the scroll
I am the master of my fate
I am the captain of my soul-- William Earnest Henly

Ronevick
The King

Joined: 23 May 2003
Posts: 11428
Location: (609), New Jersey

Mon Aug 16, 2004 5:14 pm

/\Geordi_LaForge/\ wrote:

Quote:

by Edger Allan Poe

That's one of my favorite poems. I had to study it in school for about a month.

Starbuck
faster...

Joined: 19 Feb 2003
Posts: 8715
Location: between chaos and melody

Mon Aug 16, 2004 6:07 pm

Quote:

The Bells -- Edgar Allan Poe
Hear the sledges with the bells
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now - now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells
Of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone
They are neither man nor woman
They are neither brute nor human
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

Zeke Zabertini
Captain

Joined: 13 Sep 2002
Posts: 4832

Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:17 pm

I want to see some original poetry from y'all. I know 4eva/Catie writes, but does anyone else? T, if you want me to butt out and make my own topic feel free to say so.

Starbuck
faster...

Joined: 19 Feb 2003
Posts: 8715
Location: between chaos and melody

Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:28 pm

/\ I'm having a heart attack. Oh, for ya'lls information, *whisper*so does he*whisper*

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:33 pm

Tsss, I posted my "peanut butter" one

You can post your own stuff, just be clear who the author is, and put ALL poems in quotes.

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Zeke Zabertini
Captain

Joined: 13 Sep 2002
Posts: 4832

Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:34 pm

So I do. I'll post one of mine first, if that helps.

Quote:

Power of the Few

Can one man make a difference?
No.
The only thing a man can do
Is begin.
The people are themselves,
And they can begin also.
Then if the man tries
And the people try,
Perhaps change will come.

-Ezekiel Edwardo Zabertini

Sam Kenobi
Not a Duke

Joined: 13 Jun 2003
Posts: 10373
Location: The 'Verse

Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:39 pm

this was one of my first good poems... that I remember... it's written in sonnet style, but not as long... etc

Quote:

"Sonnet 1"

'Til then a lovelorn thought I keep
Of wand'ring dreams and counting sheep
Night's shadow casts it's death upon
What once was rife, but now is gone

- Sam Dannon

Last edited by Sam Kenobi on Tue Aug 17, 2004 12:17 am; edited 1 time in total

Starbuck
faster...

Joined: 19 Feb 2003
Posts: 8715
Location: between chaos and melody

Mon Aug 16, 2004 7:54 pm

Quote:

When the night sky takes over

When the night sky takes over
The beautiful bright
when the cold north wind blows
and enchants the night
when the howl of a wolf gives all a fright
thats when the sky takes over the night

-- Caitlin Clabots

notice I rarely use capitlization and never punctuation.

Last edited by Starbuck on Tue Aug 17, 2004 8:25 am; edited 1 time in total

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Mon Aug 16, 2004 8:05 pm

Theresa wrote:

Tsss, I posted my "peanut butter" one

You can post your own stuff, just be clear who the author is, and put ALL poems in quotes.

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

Sam Kenobi
Not a Duke

Joined: 13 Jun 2003
Posts: 10373
Location: The 'Verse

Tue Aug 17, 2004 12:23 am

This is my other favorit Frost poem.

Quote:

'OUT, OUT--'
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in her apron
To tell them 'Supper'. At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leaped out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap--
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh.
As he swung toward them holding up the hand
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all--
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart--
He saw all spoiled. 'Don't let him cut my hand off
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!'
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then -- the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little -- less -- nothing! -- and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

- Robert Frost

This is the best existential poem ever! I loved analysing it. Absurdity of death, the allusion to MacBeth ("Out, out, breif candle..." to lady MacBeth's death), the alliteration telling us that... this is just another repetitive day. the scenery with the mountains fanning out to let us know how small and insignificant death is in the big ppicture. oh yeah. this one's brilliant.

Quote:

BIRCHES
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.
Ice-storms do that. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-coloured
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground,
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm,
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows--
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate wilfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree~
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

-Robert Frost

I love this one too, Frost's allusion to childhood~ just as good as Barrie's peter Pan. How only a child could believe that the birches are bent by one boy, and life gets grayer as an adult when they can only believe the truth that the snow bends the trees. then the last 10 or so lines where he speaks of his nostalgia to be able to believe like a child again, but he knows he can't. so good. I love Frost

GhostOfAMemory
Star-crossed Voyager

Joined: 06 Sep 2003
Posts: 4322
Location: My computer... duh

Tue Aug 17, 2004 4:52 am

Here's a poem I wrote a month or 2 ago. It's kind of a LOTR inspired thing, I wrote it for a Middle Earth Song thing on LOTR plaza... anyways, here it is

Quote:

Beyond the reaching of the sun
Stands place where battle once was won
Now nothing�s left but shadows thin
Memories of what was done

There once were warriors, tall and proud
Who sang of battle, strong and loud
Now silence fills these empty halls
With darkness gray under pale cloud

Noble heads they held up high
As arrows rained down from the sky
Twas there they fell and met their end
Before they had the chance to fly

Fair and just they used to be
�Ere the war they could not foresee
Now they are no more than dust
At hand of foe which they could not flee

I have more I could post later

-------signature-------

- The road goes ever on and on, down from door where it began; Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow, if I can -

Jesus loves you! God bless

Go to www.purevolume.com/leahcoiro NOW or face anhilation! BWAHA!

Theresa
Lux Mihi Deus

Joined: 17 Jun 2001
Posts: 27256
Location: United States of America

Tue Aug 17, 2004 2:31 pm

Quote:

HIGH FLIGHT

BY

John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

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

Hovering 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, untresspassed sanctity of Space,

Put out my hand- and touched the face of God.

Copyright unknown. The Author was an RCAF fighter pilot who was killed during World War Two.

-------signature-------

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with our scars

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