To The Figher Pilot
The Poets & The War XXXIX
He is so young and joyous, yet he bears
The fate of nations on his shoulders now.
His roaring Spitfire thunders up the sky;
To him the drone of engines seems a song.
He rides the cloud-pavilioned lists that lie
Between earth's surface and the evening star;
His feats of arms are such as men have not
Dared heretofore. His brief reports can vie
With all the ballads of those knights and kings
Whose deeds were red-hot news in Camelot.
He has a threefold England in his charge:
The old-world England we have loved so long,
And then the splendid England of today,
And finally, the England yet to be!
We pass him in the street – a knight who wears
Not golden spurs, perhaps, but shining wings.
– Daily Telegraph