FLIGHT by MARGARET ANNIS BELL

Yesterday I ran away
To play with the gods.

They carried me high
Where the cool-fingered sky
Brushed our cheeks; and the peaks
Flattened low, held their snow
Like pillows for a lonely head.

Faintly we heard
The voice of a bird
From the tip of our ship;
And his song soared along
Like a heart in the whirr of our wings.

A radiant world
Was swiftly unfurled
At our feet; and the heat
Of the sun as we spun
Made a dancing, a shimmering haze.

Lakes and streams
Were silvery gleams,
Strips of bright slips;
And the trees were like seas
Of malachite carved by a God.

Down with the feel
Of earth to our keel;
With Heaven, like leaven,
Light in our hearts; and the darts
Of angels held fast in our hands.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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