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, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God!
By John Gillespie McGee
*
It's that kind of a day. The kind that inspired my favorite poem that I've ever written, "Splendor Before a Storm:"
Clouds with wings of gold
enfolded pale blue morning,
that a moment died, rose up white noon,
and oh bright cumulus
flung clear around
my unsuspecting stratosphere!
How can even God
behold this gleaming day, yet stay in place
while higher every mile the sky grows! I
would tumble treeward, rumbling,
"See my wonders! See Creation glowing!
Hear my thunder!"
I myself, although
no god or wing-blessed being,
must fling my senses somehow high enough
to reach and reel among
those sun-dipped fields of light,
dance there, cling there, or of sheer worship
die!
*
I trust that, when I was feeling that, I was worshiping the Creator, not the creation.
Lord, I have loved your sky,
Be it said against or for me;
Have loved it clear and high
Or low and stormy;
Till I have reeled and stumbled
From looking up too much,
And fallen and been humbled
To wear a crutch.
My love for every heaven
O'er which You, Lord, have lorded,
From number one to seven,
Should be rewarded.
It may not give me hope
That when I am translated,
My scalp may in the scope
Be constellated;
But if that seems to tend
To my undue renown,
At least it ought to send
Me up, not down.
By Robert Lee Frost (I forget the title).
*
The camera may not lie, but it's awfully inadequate on a day like this.
3 comments:
The Robert Frost poem is entitled "Astrometaphysical".
I love Robert Frost. Actually, there is not too much poetry I don't like, unless it's some weird new-age stuff! Hope you're feeling better.Has your sinus infection left yet? We have this white fuzzy stuff floating in our air. Kinda looks like snow, except it makes you sneeze!
Hugs....
The High Flight poem has always been one of my favorites. Loved it back in the old black & white TV days, late at night at the end of broadcasat, this poem was read along with a jet plane video. I was in awe of this poem.
Me, too. That's when I learned it.
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