© Copyright Keith Ferris
http://www.brooksart.com/highflt.html

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, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept 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.
John Gillespie Magee, Jr., 1922-1941
RCAF Pilot Officer Magee crashed his Spitfire in an English meadow in 1941, just months after penning this poem, which he had sent to his parents in the United States. He was just nineteen. He is buried in the churchyard cemetery at Scopwick, Lincolnshire.
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The following exerpt from a letter he received from John Magee's sister-in-law was graciously provided to our website by Col. Randy Sohn. Thank you so much Randy for adding to this memorable story.
Mrs. Yvonne Magee (John Magee's sister-in-law) regarding High Flight:
Subject: Re: High Flight
The handwritten original of High Flight has been given by the family to
the
Library of Congress. I don't think they keep it on display, but that's
where it is.
The poem is displayed in a number of places -- at Avon Old Farms
school,
where John was a student, at the site where the Challenger astronauts
are
laid to rest, and we have even discovered a portion of it on a plaque
at our
small hometown airport here in Washington state (with no mention of who
the
poet is!) It's remarkable how it keeps popping up.
John's father, The Rev. John Gillespie Magee, was the interim rector at
St.
John's Episcopal Church in Washington, D.C. (the church across the
street
from the White House) during the war years, and was there when John was
killed. John's mother especially wanted to get the poem out to other
families who were losing sons in the war, to comfort them in their
grief.
It was published in the church bulletin, and of course, this was when
the
U.S. was entering the war -- it was picked up and printed in the D.C.
newspapers, probably partially because the church was a prominent one,
and
things 'took off' from there.
My husband has followed in his father's footsteps, and is an Episcopal
priest. The members of the church here in Washington enjoy High
Flight, and
many of them have the photocopied illuminated version in their homes.
We
took a cathedral tour of Britain last year, and visited John's
gravesite in
a tiny little town at the end of a narrow land in England -- we almost
got
the bus stuck getting to the graveyard. There were several bouquets of
fresh flowers on his grave! We were amazed, and were told that people
often
come to his gravesite to leave flowers. Isn't that delightful?
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"FOR ONCE YOU HAVE TASTED FLIGHT,
YOU WILL FOREVER WALK THE EARTH
WITH YOUR EYES TURNED SKYWARD.
FOR THERE YOU HAVE BEEN,
AND THERE YOU WILL ALWAYS
LONG TO RETURN"
Leonardo da Vinci, 1452-1519
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