High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— John Gillespie Magee, Jr.

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

--William Wordsworth

http://www.flickr.com/groups/poetryandpicturesinternational/discuss/72157594424223837/

I took the two poems I just quoted above from this link.
I was looking for a couple of poems which I did not find, but found these which expressed quite a lot, I thought.

For anyone who noticed yesterday, I was quite taken with the idea of pie. It was a full-fledged pie fantasy.

I just looked over this link again, scrolling to the very bottom, a short distance below the second poem I had chosen, not having seen the few remaining ones below.

As I scrolled down to the very very very end, I noticed that, among the many artistic pictures chosen to adorn the poems the contributers submitted, the very last image was a pie.

With this poem:

Sing a song of sixpence a pocket full of rye,
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing,
Oh wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
. . .
- NURSERY RHYME, 1600s

Ok, I JUST got a phone call while I wrote the last post, from my sister. In another state.

I told her about the pie. She says: that's funny, because I have one in the oven right now. A blackberry/blueberry pie.

Take a look at what is in the bird ornament's mouth in that photo.

Sounds like a pie-connection...
Wow, I wonder what sort of pie J.G. Magee had  :D !

Spooky