Jerome Smith (Wyoming)

Out here in Wyoming news arrives a little slower, like the lifestyle.
Today I learned of the passing of a Fine man. 


The poem below, Called High Flight, was written by a British pilot during the Battle of Britain 


How lucky I was, and My two sons John and Bill, to be touched by the hand of Bill Graefe.  

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 the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever 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 



                                     Jerome Smith 


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