Latest / Classic Drama Book Collection / Dawn Patrol, and Other Poems of an Aviator - Paul Bewsher

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Dawn Patrol, and Other Poems of an Aviator - Paul Bewsher · Classic Drama Book Collection

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  Speaker 1: Section one of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of
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  Speaker 1: an Aviator. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings
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  Speaker 1: are in the public domain. For more information are to volunteer,
• 0:14
  Speaker 1: please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Bruskachuk. The Dawn
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  Speaker 1: Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher.
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  Speaker 1: The Dawn Patrol. Sometimes I fly at dawn above the sea,
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  Speaker 1: where underneath the restless waters flow silver and cold and
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  Speaker 1: slow dim. In the east there burns a new born sun,
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  Speaker 1: whose rosy gleams along the ripples run save where the
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  Speaker 1: mist droops low, hiding the level loneliness from me, and
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  Speaker 1: now appears beneath the milk white haze, a little fleet
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  Speaker 1: of anchor'd shippes, which lie in cluster'd company, and seem
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  Speaker 1: as they are yet fast bound by sleep, although the
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  Speaker 1: day has long begun. To peep with red inflame'd eye
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  Speaker 1: along the still deserted ocean ways, the fresh cold wind
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  Speaker 1: of dawn blows on my face as in the sun's
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  Speaker 1: raw heart. I swiftly fly and watch the seas glide
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  Speaker 1: by scarce human seemigh moving through the skies and far
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  Speaker 1: remov'd from warlike enterprise, like some great gull on high,
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  Speaker 1: whose white and gleaming wings beat on through space. Then
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  Speaker 1: do I feel with God quite quite alone, high in
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  Speaker 1: the virgin morn, so white and still and free from
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  Speaker 1: human ill. My prayers transcend my feeble earth bound plains,
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  Speaker 1: as though I sang among the happy saints with many
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  Speaker 1: a holy thrill, as though the glowing sun were God's
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  Speaker 1: bright throne. My flight is done. I cross the line
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  Speaker 1: of foam that breaks around a town of gray and red,
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  Speaker 1: whose streets and squares lie dead beneath the silent dawn.
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  Speaker 1: Then am I proud at England's peace to guard? I
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  Speaker 1: am aloud, then bow my humble head in thanks to
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  Speaker 1: Him who brings me safely home. Luke Say Laban, nineteen seventeen,
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  Speaker 1: end of Section one The Dawn Patrol, Section two of
• 3:03
  Speaker 1: The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by
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  Speaker 1: Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
• 3:12
  Speaker 1: The joy of flying when heavy on my tired mind,
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  Speaker 1: The world and worldly things do weigh, and some sweet
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  Speaker 1: solace I would find into the sky. I love to stray,
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  Speaker 1: and all alone to wander round in lone seclusion from
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  Speaker 1: the ground. Ah, then what solitude is mine from groveling mankind?
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  Speaker 1: Aloof their road is but a thin drawn line, their
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  Speaker 1: busy house, a scarce seen roof that little stain of
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  Speaker 1: red and brown. They boast about it is their town.
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  Speaker 1: How small their petty quarrels seem poor, crawling multitudes below, which,
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  Speaker 1: like the antse in feverish stream from place to place,
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  Speaker 1: move to and fro like hance. They work like hance,
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  Speaker 1: they fight, assuming blindly they are right soon their existence.
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  Speaker 1: I forget, enjoy that on these flashing wings, I cleave
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  Speaker 1: the skies. Oh, let them fret. Now know I why
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  Speaker 1: the skylark sings untrammeled in the boundless air? For mine
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  Speaker 1: it is is bliss to share. Now do I mount
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  Speaker 1: a billowy cloud? Now? Do I sail low o'er a hill?
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  Speaker 1: And with a sea gulls skill endowed, circle and wheel
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  Speaker 1: and drop at will? Above the villages asleep, above the
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  Speaker 1: valleys shadowed deep above the water meadows green, whose streams,
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  Speaker 1: which intermingled flow like silver lattice work, are seen a
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  Speaker 1: gleam upon the plain below, above the woods, whose naked
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  Speaker 1: trees move new born buds upon the breeze, and far
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  Speaker 1: away above the haze, I see white mountain summits rise,
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  Speaker 1: whose snow with sunlight is ablaze and shines against the
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  Speaker 1: distant skies. Such thoughts, those towering ranges bring that I
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  Speaker 1: float on a wandering So do I love to travel
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  Speaker 1: on through lonely skies myself alone, For then the feverish
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  Speaker 1: fret is gone, which on this earth I oft have known.
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  Speaker 1: Kind is the God who lets me fly in sweet
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  Speaker 1: seclusion through the sky. France, nineteen seventeen, end of section
• 5:54
  Speaker 1: two The Joy of Flying Section three of The Dawn
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  Speaker 1: Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher.
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  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The crash,
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  Speaker 1: the rich red blood doth stain the fair green grass
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  Speaker 1: and daisies, white ingenerous flood. This sun drowsed day for
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  Speaker 1: me is darkest night, Oh rakoff, splintered wood and twisted wire,
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  Speaker 1: What blind, unmeasured hatred you inspire because yours was the
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  Speaker 1: power that life to end of him who was my friend.
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  Speaker 1: This morn we lay upon the grass and watch the
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  Speaker 1: languid hours pass. A lark deep in the sky's blue
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  Speaker 1: sea sang ecstasies to him and me, And with the
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  Speaker 1: daisies did he play. As on the waving grass we
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  Speaker 1: lay and made a little daisy chain to bring his
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  Speaker 1: childhood back again. And while he watched the clouds above,
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  Speaker 1: he drifted into thoughts of love. He said, I know
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  Speaker 1: why skylarks sing, because they love and it is spring.
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  Speaker 1: And if I had a voice as they, so would
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  Speaker 1: I sing this golden may because I love and loved
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  Speaker 1: am I? And when I wander through the sky, I
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  Speaker 1: wish I had a skylark's voice, and with such singing
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  Speaker 1: could rejoice. Oh happy, happy are these days. My heart
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  Speaker 1: is full of deep felt praise, and thanks to God
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  Speaker 1: who brings this bliss. Oh what a happiness is this
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  Speaker 1: to lie upon the grass and know in two short
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  Speaker 1: days that I shall go and see my love's fair
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  Speaker 1: face again, and wander in some flowery lane, forgetting all
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  Speaker 1: the world around, and only knowing I have found a
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  Speaker 1: spring enchantment which is mine through God's sweet sympathy. Divine,
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  Speaker 1: may these two days now swiftly pass, He laugh'd upon
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  Speaker 1: the sunlit grass. The days have passed, but pasted alas
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  Speaker 1: how slow see down the road A sad procession. Go Oh,
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  Speaker 1: hear the wailing music, moan, Why why such grief am
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  Speaker 1: I to know? Dear God, I wish I were alone,
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  Speaker 1: for by the grave a girl with streaming eyes doth
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  Speaker 1: make mine dim. While high among the sunny springtime skies,
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  Speaker 1: the larks still him. France, nineteen seventeen, end of section
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  Speaker 1: three The Crash, Section four of The Dawn Patrol and
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  Speaker 1: Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox
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  Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain. The night raid around
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  Speaker 1: me broods the dim mysterious night starlet, and still no
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  Speaker 1: whisper comes across the plain. Asleep beneath the breeze's light,
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  Speaker 1: which scarcely stir the growing grain, slow chimes the quiet
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  Speaker 1: midnight hour in some unseen and distant tower, while round
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  Speaker 1: me broods the vague mysterious night starlet, and cool and still.
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  Speaker 1: And I must desecrate this silent time of drowsy dreams.
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  Speaker 1: On mighty wings towards the sky, towards the stars. I
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  Speaker 1: have to climb and o'er the sleeping country fly and
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  Speaker 1: such far echoing clamor make that all the villages must wake.
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  Speaker 1: So must I desecrate this quiet time of soft and
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  Speaker 1: drowsy dreams. The hour comes soon, Must I say farewell
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  Speaker 1: to this fair earth. Then to my little room I go,
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  Speaker 1: where I perhaps no more shall dwell. Shall I return
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  Speaker 1: the gods, But know perchance again I shall not sleep
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  Speaker 1: on that white bed in silence deep, For soon the
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  Speaker 1: hour comes to say farewell to this fair, friendly earth.
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  Speaker 1: I stand there, long before into the gloom, I take
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  Speaker 1: my way. There are the pictures of my friends, and
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  Speaker 1: all the treasures of my room, on which my lamp
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  Speaker 1: soft radiance sends, And long, with lingering gaze, I look
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  Speaker 1: upon each much beloved book. I stand and dream before
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  Speaker 1: into the gloom, I sadly take my way, And now
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  Speaker 1: I gain the field. Whence I must part upon my quest.
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  Speaker 1: My pegasus of wood and steel is ready straining at
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  Speaker 1: the start. The governor is at the wheel, and with
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  Speaker 1: an ever growing roar across the hidden fields we soar.
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  Speaker 1: So with one envious look from earth, I part upon
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  Speaker 1: my midnight quest. Beneath me lies the sleepy countryside, hazy
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  Speaker 1: and dim, and here and there a little gleam like
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  Speaker 1: stars upon the heavens. Wide speaks of some wretch who
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  Speaker 1: cannot dream, but on his bed all night must toss
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  Speaker 1: and hear me as I pass across in droning flight,
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  Speaker 1: above the countryside hazy and huge and dim. And in
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  Speaker 1: the great blue night, I ever rise towards the stars,
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  Speaker 1: as to the hostile lands. I sail high in the
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  Speaker 1: dark and cloudless skies, whose gloom are gloomy wings doth
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  Speaker 1: veil beneath a scarce seen ribbon shows where through the
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  Speaker 1: woods a river flows. As in the shadowy night, I
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  Speaker 1: ever rise towards the scatter'd stars. Now high above war's frontiers.
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  Speaker 1: Do I sit above the lines, Great lights, like flowers
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  Speaker 1: rise and fall on either side. Red flashes spit hot
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  Speaker 1: death at those poor souls which crawl on secret herons. Oh,
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  Speaker 1: how grim must be that midnight slaughter. Dim and happy
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  Speaker 1: am I that so high I sit above those cruel lines.
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  Speaker 1: Each man beneath me now detests my race with iron hate.
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  Speaker 1: Each tiny light I see must shine upon some grim,
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  Speaker 1: unfriendly face, who curse as England's name and mine, and
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  Speaker 1: would be glad if both were gone. But steadily must
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  Speaker 1: I fly on, though every soul beneath me loathes my
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  Speaker 1: race with stern, unceasing hate. I see a far flung city,
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  Speaker 1: all ablaze with jewel'd lamps. I trace its keys, its roads,
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  Speaker 1: it squares, and all its intermingled ways. And as I
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  Speaker 1: wonder how it dares to flaunt itself, the city dies,
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  Speaker 1: and in an utter darkness lies For I have terrified
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  Speaker 1: that town ablaze with twinkling jeweled lamps. But see the
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  Speaker 1: furnace with its ruddy breath which I must wreck. The
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  Speaker 1: searchlights sweep across the sky, long fingered ministers of death.
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  Speaker 1: I look deep in their cold blue eye. Incessant shells
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  Speaker 1: with blinding light, show every wire clear and white. There
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  Speaker 1: is the furnace, with its ruddy breath, which I must wreck.
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  Speaker 1: It lies beneath. My time has come at last to
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  Speaker 1: do my work. I wait, Oh, will you never stop
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  Speaker 1: your fearful shells that burst so fast? And there I
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  Speaker 1: hear destruction drop behind my back. As I release such
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  Speaker 1: fearful death, with such great ease burst on you shells.
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  Speaker 1: My time has come at last to do my deadly work.
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  Speaker 1: Then do I turn and hurry swiftly back towards my home.
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  Speaker 1: I gladly leave that place behind. No more I hear
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  Speaker 1: the shrapnels crack no more my eyes the searchlights blind,
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  Speaker 1: I cross the lines with lightning breast, and sail into
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  Speaker 1: the friendly west. How glad am I to hurry swiftly
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  Speaker 1: back towards my peaceful home. I reach the field, and
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  Speaker 1: then I softly land. My work is o'er. I leave
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  Speaker 1: my hot and panting steed, and clasp a comrade's outstretched hand,
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  Speaker 1: and with him to my bedroom. Speed, Then over steaming
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  Speaker 1: beakers set the night's fierce menace. Soon forget how great
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  Speaker 1: a welcome waits me when I land, When all my
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  Speaker 1: work is o'er. But ere I search shay, sleep on
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  Speaker 1: my white bed. I greet the dawn and think with
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  Speaker 1: heart weighed down with grief. How cruel this dawn to
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  Speaker 1: those whose dead lie shatter'd torn whom like a thief
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  Speaker 1: at darkest midnight I have slain four unknown victims. Reel
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  Speaker 1: my pain? What widows, orphans, sweethearts see their dead? This cruel,
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  Speaker 1: hopeless Dawn, France, nineteen seventeen, end of section four The
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  Speaker 1: Night Raid, Section five of The Dawn Patrol and Other
• 17:06
  Speaker 1: Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording
• 17:12
  Speaker 1: is in the public domain. Despair the Long and Tedious
• 17:18
  Speaker 1: Months move slowly by, and February's chill has fled away
• 17:23
  Speaker 1: before the gales of March, and now e'en they have
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  Speaker 1: died upon the peaceful April sky. And still I sadly wander,
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  Speaker 1: Still I sigh, and all the splendor of each springtime
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  Speaker 1: day is died for me, one melancholy gray and all
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  Speaker 1: its beauty can but make me cry for thou art silence,
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  Speaker 1: oh far distant friend, And not one word has come
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  Speaker 1: to shear my heart through these sad months, which seem
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  Speaker 1: to have no end. So distant seems the day which
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  Speaker 1: bade us part, Oh speak, dear fair haired angel, spring
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  Speaker 1: has smiled, And I despair a broken hearted child, France,
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  Speaker 1: nineteen seventeen, end of section five Despair, Section six of
• 18:41
  Speaker 1: The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by
• 18:44
  Speaker 1: Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
• 18:50
  Speaker 1: The horrors of flying. The day is cold, the wind
• 18:56
  Speaker 1: is strong, and through the sky great cloud banks the wrong,
• 19:01
  Speaker 1: while swaths of snow lie on the ground o'er which
• 19:04
  Speaker 1: I walk without a sound. But I have vowed to
• 19:09
  Speaker 1: fly to day, though winds are fierce and clouds are gray.
• 19:15
  Speaker 1: My aeroplane is on the field, so I must fly.
• 19:19
  Speaker 1: My fate is seal'd, and no excuses can I make
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  Speaker 1: within its back my place I take. I strap myself
• 19:28
  Speaker 1: inside the seat and press the rudder with my feet,
• 19:33
  Speaker 1: and hold the wheel with nervous grip, and gaze around
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  Speaker 1: my little ship. For on its wire rigging taut depends
• 19:41
  Speaker 1: my life, which will be short if it should fail
• 19:45
  Speaker 1: me in the air swift then my fall, and short
• 19:49
  Speaker 1: my prayer, and these my wings would be my pyre.
• 19:55
  Speaker 1: So well I scrutinize each wire. Then out across the field,
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  Speaker 1: I go in shaking progress, noisy, slow, and turn until
• 20:06
  Speaker 1: the wind I face. Then do I look around a space,
• 20:11
  Speaker 1: for fear to day is at my heart, and nervously
• 20:16
  Speaker 1: I fear to start. The field is clear, the skies
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  Speaker 1: are bare. Mine is the freedom of the air. And
• 20:26
  Speaker 1: yet I sit and hesitate, although each moment that I
• 20:31
  Speaker 1: wait brings to my soul a greater fear to me.
• 20:36
  Speaker 1: The grass seems very dear. Deer seems the hot where
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  Speaker 1: dreams have crept to me each midnight as I slept.
• 20:46
  Speaker 1: Deer seems the river by whose brink I oft have
• 20:50
  Speaker 1: watched brown pebbles sink deep in the crumbling bridge's shade,
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  Speaker 1: where in the evening I have strayed. My restless hand
• 21:00
  Speaker 1: hold fast the wheel once more the wing controls I feel.
• 21:05
  Speaker 1: I move the rudder with my feet and settle firmly
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  Speaker 1: in the seat. I start and o'er the snowy grass
• 21:15
  Speaker 1: in ever quicker progress pass on either side, the ground
• 21:19
  Speaker 1: streaks by, and soon above the grass I fly. I
• 21:24
  Speaker 1: feel the air beneath the wings. At first a greater
• 21:27
  Speaker 1: ease it brings, But soon the stormy strife begins. And
• 21:32
  Speaker 1: if I lose, tis death? Who wins the winds? A
• 21:36
  Speaker 1: thousand devils hold, who grasp my wings with fingers bold
• 21:41
  Speaker 1: and keep me ceaselessly a rock. I seem to hear
• 21:46
  Speaker 1: those devils mock as I am thrown from side to
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  Speaker 1: side in unseen eddies, terrified as suddenly I start to drop,
• 21:56
  Speaker 1: and when my plunging fall I stop up. Am I
• 22:00
  Speaker 1: swiftly thrown once more? Like no great eagle do I soar?
• 22:05
  Speaker 1: But like a sparrow, tempest tossed, I struggle on. My
• 22:10
  Speaker 1: faith is lost, my former confidence is dead, and whispering
• 22:15
  Speaker 1: fear has come instead. Death. Ever dogs me close behind
• 22:22
  Speaker 1: my frightened soul, no peace can find. I feel a
• 22:26
  Speaker 1: torture in each nerve as to the right or left,
• 22:30
  Speaker 1: I swerve, and now imagination brings its evil thoughts. I
• 22:35
  Speaker 1: watch the wings and wonder if those wings will break.
• 22:38
  Speaker 1: The tight stretched wires seem to shake. I see the
• 22:43
  Speaker 1: ghastly headlong rush, and picture how the fall would crush
• 22:47
  Speaker 1: my helpless body on the ground. With haggard eyes, I
• 22:52
  Speaker 1: turn around and contemplate the rocking tail. My drawn and
• 22:57
  Speaker 1: sweating cheeks are pale. There's clammy hands clutch at my heart.
• 23:03
  Speaker 1: I try, with unavailing art to summon thoughts of peaceful
• 23:07
  Speaker 1: hours spent in some sunny field of flowers, when my
• 23:12
  Speaker 1: half opened eyes would look on some old dream inspiring book,
• 23:17
  Speaker 1: and not on this accursed wheel, and on this box
• 23:21
  Speaker 1: of wood and steel, in which at pitch and toss
• 23:25
  Speaker 1: with death. I play and wonder if each breath I
• 23:29
  Speaker 1: tensely draw will be my last. The happy thoughts are
• 23:34
  Speaker 1: swiftly past my frightened brain, forbids them stay dear. London
• 23:40
  Speaker 1: seems so far away, and far away my well loved friends.
• 23:47
  Speaker 1: Each second my existence ends in my disordered mind, whose
• 23:53
  Speaker 1: pace I cannot check. Its cog wheel's race like some
• 23:57
  Speaker 1: ungoverned whirring clock, when unfrenziedly it runs amuck. I have
• 24:03
  Speaker 1: resolved that I will climb a certain height. How slow
• 24:08
  Speaker 1: seems time, as on its sluggish pivot creeps the laggard
• 24:12
  Speaker 1: finger point which keeps the truthful record, Oh, how slow
• 24:17
  Speaker 1: towards the clouds I seem to go, And then ambition
• 24:22
  Speaker 1: gains its mark. At last the little finger or the
• 24:26
  Speaker 1: point has passed. I can descend again, with conscience clear,
• 24:32
  Speaker 1: and end this battle with persistent fear. The engine's clamor dies.
• 24:39
  Speaker 1: There is no sound save whistling wires. As towards the ground,
• 24:44
  Speaker 1: I gently float. My agony is gone? What peace is mine?
• 24:51
  Speaker 1: As I go gliding on calm after storm, contentment after pain,
• 24:58
  Speaker 1: soft sleep to some tempt pestuous burning brain, the soothing
• 25:03
  Speaker 1: harbor after foamy, sees the gentle feeling of a perfect ease.
• 25:10
  Speaker 1: All all are mine, though yet by gusts distressed. Near
• 25:16
  Speaker 1: is the ground, and with the ground comes rest. Above
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  Speaker 1: the trees, I glide above the grass, above the snow
• 25:25
  Speaker 1: besprinkled earth. I pass, I touch the ground, run swift
• 25:30
  Speaker 1: along and stop above the wheel. My tired shoulders drop,
• 25:37
  Speaker 1: I leave my seat and slowly move away. Cold is
• 25:41
  Speaker 1: the wind, the clouds are gray. I only wish my
• 25:46
  Speaker 1: room to gain, and in some book forget my pain
• 25:50
  Speaker 1: and lose myself in fancied dreams across Titania's Golden Streams,
• 25:59
  Speaker 1: Friend nineteen seventeen, end of section six, The Horrors of
• 26:07
  Speaker 1: Flying Section seven of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems
• 26:17
  Speaker 1: of an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is
• 26:22
  Speaker 1: in the public domain. Dreams of Autumn, when, through the
• 26:28
  Speaker 1: heat of some long afternoon in blazing August, on the grass,
• 26:33
  Speaker 1: I lie and watch the white clouds move across the sky,
• 26:38
  Speaker 1: on whose azure is faintly etched the moon, that, when
• 26:43
  Speaker 1: the evening deepens, will be soon the brightest figure of
• 26:47
  Speaker 1: those hosts on high. My heart is discontented, and I
• 26:52
  Speaker 1: sigh for autumn and its vapors, till I swoon upon
• 26:57
  Speaker 1: the vision of October days in dream in London, when
• 27:01
  Speaker 1: each mighty tree sheds daily more brown showers through the
• 27:06
  Speaker 1: haze which lends each street romance and mystery, When pallid
• 27:12
  Speaker 1: silver sunshine only gleams on that gray lover's city of
• 27:17
  Speaker 1: Sweet Dreams. I Love Grain, nineteen sixteen, end of section seven,
• 27:28
  Speaker 1: Dreams of Autumn, Section eight of The Dawn Patrol and
• 27:38
  Speaker 1: Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Bouscher. This LibriVox
• 27:43
  Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain. To Carlton Berry, killed
• 27:49
  Speaker 1: in an aeroplane accident, July nineteen sixteen. It was thy will,
• 27:57
  Speaker 1: o God, and so he died. For seventeen sweet years.
• 28:03
  Speaker 1: He was a child upon whose grace, thy loving kindness smiled,
• 28:08
  Speaker 1: for he was clean and full of youthful pride. And
• 28:12
  Speaker 1: when his years drew on, then thou denied that he,
• 28:16
  Speaker 1: by man's estate, should be defiled. And so thou call'st
• 28:20
  Speaker 1: him to Thy presence, mild, to be with THEE forever
• 28:24
  Speaker 1: by thy side. Nor is he dead. He lives in
• 28:30
  Speaker 1: three great spheres. His soul is with THEE in Thy
• 28:34
  Speaker 1: home above, his influence with friends of former years, his
• 28:40
  Speaker 1: memory with those he used to love. He is an
• 28:45
  Speaker 1: emblem of that trinity with whom he lives in happy ecstasy.
• 28:53
  Speaker 1: I Love Grain, nineteen sixteen, end of section eight, To
• 29:00
  Speaker 1: Carleton Berry, Section nine of The Dawn Patrol and Other
• 29:11
  Speaker 1: Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording
• 29:16
  Speaker 1: is in the public domain. London in May. Two longfull
• 29:24
  Speaker 1: years have passed since I have smelt sweet London in
• 29:28
  Speaker 1: this happy month of May. Last year, relentless war bore
• 29:34
  Speaker 1: me away to imbros Isle, where six sad months I
• 29:38
  Speaker 1: dwelt beneath a burning sun, nor ever felt one breath
• 29:43
  Speaker 1: of gentle spring blow o'er the bay between whose sun
• 29:47
  Speaker 1: dried hills. So long I lay a restless captive. Now
• 29:54
  Speaker 1: has fortune dealt more kindly with me once again? I
• 29:58
  Speaker 1: know the drowsy, the languor of the afternoons, the soft
• 30:03
  Speaker 1: white clouds, the may trees, whiter snow, the star bound evenings,
• 30:10
  Speaker 1: and the ivory moons. My heart, dear God, leaps up
• 30:15
  Speaker 1: till it is pain with thanks to THEE that I
• 30:19
  Speaker 1: am here again, London. End of Section nine, London in May,
• 30:34
  Speaker 1: Section ten of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of
• 30:38
  Speaker 1: an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in
• 30:43
  Speaker 1: the public domain. A fallen leaf when death has crossed
• 30:50
  Speaker 1: my name from out the role of dreaming children serving
• 30:54
  Speaker 1: in this war, and with these earthly eyes I gaze
• 30:58
  Speaker 1: no more upon swa eat England's grace. Perhaps my soul
• 31:03
  Speaker 1: will visit streets on which I used to stroll at sunset,
• 31:07
  Speaker 1: charm'd dusks, when London's roar, like having surf on some
• 31:12
  Speaker 1: Atlantic shore, would trance the ear. Then may I hear
• 31:16
  Speaker 1: no toll of heavy bells to burden all the air
• 31:20
  Speaker 1: with tuneless grief? For happy will I be? What place
• 31:25
  Speaker 1: on earth could ever be more fair than God's own presence?
• 31:31
  Speaker 1: More not than for me, nor right? I pray he
• 31:37
  Speaker 1: gave upon my clod his life to England, but his
• 31:43
  Speaker 1: soul to God. I love Sheppey nineteen seventeen, end of
• 31:52
  Speaker 1: section ten a fallen Leaf, Section eleven of The Dawn
• 32:03
  Speaker 1: Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher.
• 32:08
  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Star
• 32:15
  Speaker 1: I stood one azure dusk in old hosair, before the
• 32:20
  Speaker 1: gray cathedral's towering height, and in the eastern darkness, very fair,
• 32:26
  Speaker 1: I saw a little star that twinkled bright. How small
• 32:31
  Speaker 1: it looked beside the mighty pile, whose stone was rosy
• 32:36
  Speaker 1: with the western glow. A little star. I pondered for
• 32:42
  Speaker 1: a while, and then the solemn truth began to know
• 32:47
  Speaker 1: that tiny star was some enormous sphere. The great Cathedral
• 32:53
  Speaker 1: was anatomy. So often when great trouble looms so near,
• 32:59
  Speaker 1: that God shines in our minds but distantly. If we
• 33:03
  Speaker 1: but thought our grief would seem so small, that we
• 33:07
  Speaker 1: would see that God's great love was all France, nineteen seventeen,
• 33:16
  Speaker 1: end of section eleven The Star, Section twelve of The
• 33:27
  Speaker 1: Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher.
• 33:32
  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Islington. Here,
• 33:39
  Speaker 1: slow decay with creeping finger peels the yellow plaster from
• 33:44
  Speaker 1: the grimy walls like leprous lichen, day by day which falls,
• 33:50
  Speaker 1: and day by day more rotting stone reveals here harrowed,
• 33:57
  Speaker 1: mournful squares through which there steel, no cheerful music or
• 34:02
  Speaker 1: the heedless calls of laughing children, and the smoke which
• 34:07
  Speaker 1: crawls across the sky. The heavy silence seals lean blackened
• 34:14
  Speaker 1: trees stretch up their withered boughs behind the rusty railings.
• 34:18
  Speaker 1: Prison Bound in vain, they seek the summer sunlight's gold
• 34:23
  Speaker 1: in which their long dead fathers used to drowse for
• 34:28
  Speaker 1: pallid terraces lie far around in gloomy sadness, ever growing
• 34:35
  Speaker 1: old o chi le Band nineteen seventeen, end of section twelve, Islington,
• 34:52
  Speaker 1: Section thirteen of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of
• 34:56
  Speaker 1: an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This Revox recording is in
• 35:01
  Speaker 1: the public domain. The Country Beautiful. I love the little
• 35:08
  Speaker 1: daisies on the lawn, which contemplate with wide and placid eyes,
• 35:12
  Speaker 1: the blue and white enamel of the skies, The larks
• 35:17
  Speaker 1: which sing their matten song, get dawn high 'er the earth,
• 35:22
  Speaker 1: and see the new day born, all stained with amethyst
• 35:26
  Speaker 1: and amber dies. I love the shadowy woodlands, hidden prize
• 35:32
  Speaker 1: of fragrant violets, which the dewy morn doth open gently
• 35:36
  Speaker 1: underneath the trees to cast elusive perfume on each hour.
• 35:42
  Speaker 1: The waving clover full of drowsy bees that take their
• 35:47
  Speaker 1: murmurous way from flower to flower. Who could but think
• 35:52
  Speaker 1: deep in some sunflecked glade, how God must love these
• 35:58
  Speaker 1: things that he has made East Church, nineteen sixteen, end
• 36:06
  Speaker 1: of section thirteen, The Country Beautiful, Section fourteen of The
• 36:17
  Speaker 1: Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher.
• 36:23
  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chelsea, How
• 36:30
  Speaker 1: many of those youths who consecrate their lives to art
• 36:33
  Speaker 1: and worship at her shrine, and sacrifice their early hours
• 36:38
  Speaker 1: and late in serving her exacting whims divine have gathered
• 36:43
  Speaker 1: in Old Chelsea's shaded peace, whose faint, elusive charm and
• 36:49
  Speaker 1: gentle airs bring inspiration, fresh and sweet release from troubles,
• 36:55
  Speaker 1: haunting shapes and goblin cares. O tree bowered Hamlet, whose
• 37:01
  Speaker 1: domain sleeps in the arms of London, quietly, whose sparrow
• 37:06
  Speaker 1: haunted roads and squares serene from all the stress of life,
• 37:12
  Speaker 1: seem ever free. Oh, are you more than just a
• 37:16
  Speaker 1: passing dream beside the cities slim and lovely stream? Luke
• 37:24
  Speaker 1: say Leban nineteen seventeen, end of Section fourteen Chelsea, Section
• 37:38
  Speaker 1: fifteen of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an
• 37:42
  Speaker 1: Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in the
• 37:47
  Speaker 1: public domain. K L. H. Died of wounds received at
• 37:54
  Speaker 1: the Dardanelles, where stern, gray busts of gods and heroes
• 38:00
  Speaker 1: old frowned down upon the corridor's chill stone, on which
• 38:05
  Speaker 1: the sunbeams, amber pale is thrown from leaf fringed windows.
• 38:11
  Speaker 1: One of quiet mold gazed long at those white chronicles
• 38:16
  Speaker 1: which told of honors that the stately school had known.
• 38:21
  Speaker 1: He read the names and wondered if his own would
• 38:26
  Speaker 1: ever grace the walls in letters bold. He knew not
• 38:31
  Speaker 1: that he for the school, would gain a greater honor,
• 38:35
  Speaker 1: with a greater price that no long years of work,
• 38:39
  Speaker 1: but bitter pain and his rich life. He was to
• 38:43
  Speaker 1: sacrifice not in a university's gray peace, but on the
• 38:48
  Speaker 1: hilly sun baked cursones H. M. S. Manica Dardanelle's nineteen
• 38:57
  Speaker 1: fifteen end of Section fifteen k l H. Section sixteen
• 39:11
  Speaker 1: of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator
• 39:15
  Speaker 1: by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
• 39:21
  Speaker 1: The fringe of Heaven. Now have I left the world
• 39:27
  Speaker 1: and all its tears, And high above the sunny cloud banks,
• 39:31
  Speaker 1: fly alone in all this vast and lonely sky, this
• 39:37
  Speaker 1: limpid space in which the myriad spheres go thundering on
• 39:43
  Speaker 1: whose song God only hears high in his heavens Ah,
• 39:48
  Speaker 1: how small seem I, and yet I know he hears
• 39:52
  Speaker 1: my little cry down there among mankind's cruel jest and sneers,
• 40:00
  Speaker 1: and I forget the grief which I have known, and
• 40:04
  Speaker 1: I forgive the mockers and their jest. And in this
• 40:08
  Speaker 1: mighty solitude alone I taste the joys of everlasting rest,
• 40:14
  Speaker 1: which I shall know when I have passed away to
• 40:18
  Speaker 1: live in Heaven's never fading day. Written in the air
• 40:27
  Speaker 1: end of section sixteen The Fringe of Heaven, Section seventeen
• 40:38
  Speaker 1: of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator
• 40:42
  Speaker 1: by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
• 40:48
  Speaker 1: Three triolets colors. How bright is Earth's rich gown? None
• 40:55
  Speaker 1: but an airman knows? Yellow and green and brown? How
• 41:00
  Speaker 1: bright is Earth's rich gown? I see as I gaze
• 41:05
  Speaker 1: down its purple, cream and rose. How bright is Earth's
• 41:11
  Speaker 1: rich gown? None but an airman knows. The sea Sad
• 41:18
  Speaker 1: is the lonely sea, so vast and smooth and gray.
• 41:24
  Speaker 1: It stretches far from me. Sad is the lonely sea.
• 41:30
  Speaker 1: Its cheerful colors flee before the fading day. Sad is
• 41:37
  Speaker 1: the lonely sea, so vast and smooth and gray, disillusion,
• 41:45
  Speaker 1: You mortal see the sky. I only see the ground,
• 41:50
  Speaker 1: as through the air I fly, You mortal see the sky,
• 41:55
  Speaker 1: and yet with envy sigh because to earth your back,
• 42:01
  Speaker 1: you mortals see the sky, I only see the ground.
• 42:08
  Speaker 1: Written in the air, end of section seventeen three Triolets,
• 42:21
  Speaker 1: Section eighteen of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of
• 42:25
  Speaker 1: an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in
• 42:30
  Speaker 1: the public domain. Cloud Thoughts, Above the Clouds, I sail
• 42:37
  Speaker 1: above the clouds, and wish my mind above its clouds
• 42:42
  Speaker 1: could climb as well, and leave behind the world and
• 42:47
  Speaker 1: all its crowds, and ever dwell in such a calm
• 42:51
  Speaker 1: and limpid solitude, with ne'er a breath unkind or harsh
• 42:57
  Speaker 1: or rude, to break the spell, with ne'er a thought,
• 43:01
  Speaker 1: to drive away the golden splendor of the day, alone
• 43:06
  Speaker 1: and lost beneath the tranquil blue, My God with you,
• 43:14
  Speaker 1: Written in an aeroplane, end of section eighteen. Cloud Thoughts,
• 43:27
  Speaker 1: Section nineteen of The Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of
• 43:31
  Speaker 1: an Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in
• 43:36
  Speaker 1: the public domain. Autumn regrets that I were keats, and
• 43:43
  Speaker 1: with a golden pen, could for all time preserve these
• 43:47
  Speaker 1: golden days in rich and glowing verse for poorer men
• 43:51
  Speaker 1: who felt their wonder, but could only gaze with silent
• 43:55
  Speaker 1: joy upon sweet Autumn's face, and not record in any
• 44:00
  Speaker 1: wise its grace alas, but I am even dumb as they,
• 44:06
  Speaker 1: I cannot bid the fleeting hours stay, nor chain one
• 44:10
  Speaker 1: moment on a page's space. That I were Greek, then
• 44:16
  Speaker 1: with a haunting air of Murmur's soft and swelling grand refrains,
• 44:21
  Speaker 1: would I express my love of Autumn fair, with all
• 44:25
  Speaker 1: its wealth of harvest and warm rains, and with fantastic
• 44:30
  Speaker 1: melodies inspire a memory of each mad sunset's fire, in
• 44:35
  Speaker 1: which the day goes slowly to its death, as through
• 44:39
  Speaker 1: the fragrant wood's dim evening's breath doth soothe to sleep
• 44:43
  Speaker 1: the drowsy song bird's choir. That I were corol, then
• 44:49
  Speaker 1: September's gold would I store up in painted treasuries, that
• 44:54
  Speaker 1: when the world seemed gray, I could behold its blazing
• 44:58
  Speaker 1: color with sweet men, and each elusive color would be
• 45:02
  Speaker 1: mine that decorates these afternoons benign Ah, Then I could
• 45:09
  Speaker 1: enshrine each fleeting hue which dies the woodland and enslave
• 45:14
  Speaker 1: the blue of sky and haze with genius divine. How
• 45:20
  Speaker 1: sad these wishes when I have no art of poetry
• 45:24
  Speaker 1: or music, or of brush with which to calm the
• 45:28
  Speaker 1: swelling of my heart By capturing the misty country's hush
• 45:33
  Speaker 1: in muted violins, I cannot hymn the shadowy silence of
• 45:39
  Speaker 1: the copses dim, nor can I paint September's sky crowned
• 45:44
  Speaker 1: hills gone. Then the wonder which my vision fills when
• 45:50
  Speaker 1: all the earth is bound by winter Grim Westgate, end
• 45:58
  Speaker 1: of section nineteen Autumn Regrets, Section twenty of The Dawn
• 46:10
  Speaker 1: Patrol and Other Poems of an Aviator by Paul Boucher.
• 46:14
  Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. To Hilda
• 46:20
  Speaker 1: on her seventeenth birthday. Now has rich time brought you
• 46:26
  Speaker 1: a gift of gold, a long sweet here, which you
• 46:29
  Speaker 1: can shape at will and deck with roses warm or
• 46:33
  Speaker 1: with the chill and heartless lilies. God gives strength to
• 46:38
  Speaker 1: mold our days and lives with fingers firm and bald,
• 46:43
  Speaker 1: and make them noble, straight and clean from ill, though
• 46:47
  Speaker 1: few are willing, and their years they fill with dross,
• 46:52
  Speaker 1: which they regret when they are old. What splendid hours
• 46:56
  Speaker 1: of your life are these, when youth and childhood wonder
• 46:59
  Speaker 1: how in hand and give you freely all which best
• 47:03
  Speaker 1: can please, laughter and friends, and dreams of fairy land. More,
• 47:10
  Speaker 1: not the seasons passed with useless tears, but greet the
• 47:15
  Speaker 1: pleasure of the coming years. France, nineteen seventeen, end of
• 47:24
  Speaker 1: section twenty to Hilda on her seventeenth birthday, Section twenty
• 47:35
  Speaker 1: one of The Dawn Patrol and other Poems of an
• 47:38
  Speaker 1: Aviator by Paul Boucher. This LibriVox recording is in the
• 47:43
  Speaker 1: public domain. Clouds tis strange to leave this world of
• 47:50
  Speaker 1: woods and hills, this world of little farms and shady mills,
• 47:56
  Speaker 1: of fields and water meadows, fair upon some sad and
• 48:01
  Speaker 1: shadowy day when all the skies are overcast and gray.
• 48:07
  Speaker 1: And climb up through the gloomy air, and ever hurry
• 48:11
  Speaker 1: higher still and higher, till underneath you lies a far
• 48:16
  Speaker 1: flung shire, all sober hued, beneath the ceiling pail of
• 48:21
  Speaker 1: crawling clouds, whose barrier soon you reach, and through their
• 48:27
  Speaker 1: clammy vapors swiftly sail their chill defenses, hoping soon to breach,
• 48:34
  Speaker 1: to see no skies above, no ground below. And in
• 48:39
  Speaker 1: that nothingness, tossed to and fro is no sweet moment.
• 48:45
  Speaker 1: Will it never cease? Climbing and diving, thrown from side
• 48:50
  Speaker 1: to side all Suddenly there comes a sense of peace,
• 48:54
  Speaker 1: And o'er a wondrous scenery we glide. Oh, what a
• 49:00
  Speaker 1: blunder deep, the cloudless blue, whose sparkling azure has a
• 49:04
  Speaker 1: gorgeous hue on earth, you know, not flaming bright, the
• 49:10
  Speaker 1: sun which shines upon a landscape snowy white, with all
• 49:14
  Speaker 1: its power of unsullied light. Deep in the shadowy valleys
• 49:19
  Speaker 1: do we run. And then above the towering summits soar
• 49:23
  Speaker 1: and sea for far, thrown miles, yet more and more
• 49:28
  Speaker 1: great mountain ranges, rolling white and soft, with shadowy passes,
• 49:34
  Speaker 1: cool and huge and dim, where surely angels wonder as
• 49:40
  Speaker 1: they hymn their happy songs which wing their way aloft
• 49:44
  Speaker 1: to him who made the sun, the azure deep, and
• 49:49
  Speaker 1: all this gleaming land of peace and sleep alone, I
• 49:54
  Speaker 1: wonder o'er this virgin land, all all for me. Below,
• 50:01
  Speaker 1: the plowman plods along his furrows, and with restless hand
• 50:05
  Speaker 1: the sower hurls his seed among the clods. They cannot
• 50:10
  Speaker 1: see the sun. Gray is their sky. Ay see the sun,
• 50:16
  Speaker 1: the heaven's blue on high. But I am human and
• 50:20
  Speaker 1: must e'en descend. I bid farewell to all this lovely scene,
• 50:27
  Speaker 1: and plunge deep in a cloud. When will it end?
• 50:31
  Speaker 1: This hazy voyage? See the checkered green, the scattered farmsteads,
• 50:37
  Speaker 1: and the quiet sea, sunless and dim, come hurrying up
• 50:42
  Speaker 1: to me, France, nineteen seventeen, end of section twenty one Clouds,
• 50:54
  Speaker 1: End of the Dawn Patrol and Other Poems of an
• 50:57
  Speaker 1: Aviator by Paul Boucher