Aviators

Little drops in water -
Little drops on land -
Make the aviator,
Join the heavenly band.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DLIII. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCXXIX. Riddles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXII. Love And Matrimony.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. LIV. Tales.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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Aeronautics

A flea and a fly in a flue,
Were imprisoned; now what could they do?
    Said the fly, "let us flee."
    "Let us fly," said the flea,
And they flew through a flaw in the flue.

Unknown

Song Of The Aviator

You may thrill with the speed of your thoroughbred steed,
You may laugh with delight as you ride the ocean,
You may rush afar in your touring car,
Leaping, sweeping, by things that are creeping -
But you never will know the joy of motion
Till you rise up over the earth some day,
And soar like an eagle, away - away.

High and higher above each spire,
Till lost to sight is the tallest steeple,
With the winds you chase in a valiant race,
Looping, swooping, where mountains are grouping,
Hailing them comrades, in place of people.
Oh! vast is the rapture the birdman knows,
As into the ether he mounts and goes.
He is over the sphere of human fear;
He has come into touch with things supernal.
At each man's gate death stands await;
And dying, flying, were bet...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Aeroplanes

A genius who once did aspire
To invent an aerial flyer,
    When asked, "Does it go?"
    Replied, "I don't know;
I'm awaiting some damphule to try 'er."

Unknown

Cloud Thoughts

Above the clouds I sail, above the clouds,
    And wish my mind
Above its clouds could climb as well,
    And leave behind
The world and all its crowds,
    And ever dwell
In such a calm and limpid solitude
With ne'er a breath unkind or harsh or rude
    To break the spell -
With ne'er a thought to drive away
The golden splendour of the day.
Alone and lost beneath the tranquil blue,
    My God! With you!

Written in an Aeroplane.

Paul Bewsher

Water-Fowl Observed Frequently Over The Lakes Of Rydal And Grasmere

Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood,
With grace of motion that might scarcely seem
Inferior to angelical, prolong
Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air
(And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars
High as the level of the mountain-tops)
A circuit ampler than the lake beneath
Their own domain; but ever, while intent
On tracing and retracing that large round,
Their jubilant activity evolves
Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro,
Upward and downward, progress intricate
Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed
Their indefatigable flight. 'Tis done
Ten times, or more, I fancied it had ceased;
But lo! the vanished company again
Ascending; they approach I hear their wings,
Faint, faint at first; and then an eager sound,
Past in a moment a...

William Wordsworth

Birds Of Passage.

FLIGHT THE FIRST

. . come i gru van cantando lor lai,
Facendo in aer di se lunga riga. -- DANTE


BIRDS OF PASSAGE

Black shadows fall
From the lindens tall,
That lift aloft their massive wall
    Against the southern sky;

And from the realms
Of the shadowy elms
A tide-like darkness overwhelms
    The fields that round us lie.

But the night is fair,
And everywhere
A warm, soft vapor fills the air,
    And distant sounds seem near,

And above, in the light
Of the star-lit night,
Swift birds of passage wing their flight
    Through the dewy atmosphere.

I hear the beat
Of their pinions fleet,
As from the land of snow and sleet
    They seek a southern lea.

I hear the cry

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow