Unhappy craft of Daedalus reborn, <br />That liest prone with white wings torn, <br />And, like some giant prehistoric bird, with throb- <br />bing sound <br />Doest beat they wings on unresponsive ground. <br />Forlorn! Forlorn! <br /> <br />This very morn didst set out with thy plume <br />Yet damp from thine Icarian tomb, <br />To plough in mirth again the Stygian wave. With <br />launching cry <br />And sails outset didst dive the unattempted sky <br />To doom! To doom! <br /> <br />The early reaper at the start of day <br />Pauses ‘mid the falling hay, <br />And stands in wond’ring gaze, with eyes upturned <br />to watch they flight; <br />To him dost seem some goblin that the lifting nigh <br />Hath gone astray. <br /> <br />About thee in they meteor flight along <br />The shore, the shrieking sea birds throng <br />In clustered clouds of angry rivalry, and skim the <br />sea <br />To rise and dip again, and follow with their free <br />Wild tuneless song. <br /> <br />Unfledged, untimely birdling of a breath! <br />No useless shroud hast thou, nor wreath. <br />They flight was brief, yet wert thou eagle-hearted <br />as of yore. <br />When fearlessly didst flee that alien Cretan shore <br />To sink in death. <br /> <br />And now the furrowed earth holds fast they wings, <br />While far afield the ox-bell rings <br />A strange, soft dirge. Thy blood is dropping on <br />the frightened grass; <br />The night is hushed. A sad, scarce-moving breeze <br />doth pass, <br />And passing sings.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wrecked-aeroplane/
