The wonder of Birds.

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Hi all, As we havn’t been out either in the garden or any places of interest i thought i would post you my all time favourite Poem, its by someone who calls themselves “The Little Stint” and its called
“Flying Machines”

(By the Little Stint)

When Bleriot the channel flew
The people made a great to-do;
They came in thousands just to stare
At the great conqueror of the Air
Who crossed from France to England’s shore
A flight of twenty miles or more
“How great an aeroplane!” they said:
“And what a noise the engine made!”
“And how could Bleriot know that he
Would find his way across the sea,
Which none had ever flown before?
And so they wondered more and more,
Until at last their hats they raise
And cheer to their great hero’s praise.

Yet I, when called to make my flight,
Have slipped of in an Artic night
And lightly flown o’er land and sea,
The only engine carrying me
My heart, no bigger than a shilling,
Which for twelve thousand miles is willing.
Less than two ounces is my weight.
No petrol cans increase my freight;
No chart nor compass ‘neath my eyes
To mark the track through trackless skies
And still untiring to the verge
Of Australasian ocean’s surge
From North Siberia’s coast I fly,
Spanning the globe unerringly,
No cheering thousands when I land,
No startling posters in the Strand;
No wondering word, no praise is heard,
But then, I ONLY AM A BIRD

I have really loved this Poem since i first read it 50 odd years ag.

• 5 Feb, 2011
• 5 likes

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