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 even 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.
Magee was 19 years old when he died in a mid-air collision over Lincolnshire, England in 1941. Rebecca Maskel has more.

"Rice"

While you are gone
I think of
rice, the mystery
of this
substance, how
the smell lingers
days, weeks
later.
My hands,
still
covered by
you,
begin to speak
a soft language.
Who can translate
these words? They
sail by
so tenderly,
stained with love.

Once there was a friend.
He watched me from the sky.
Maybe he never lived at all.
Maybe too much friendship made him die.

When the gang played cops and robbers in the alley,
It was my friend who told me which were which.
Now he doesn't tell me any more.
(Which team am I playing for?)

My science teacher built a telescope
To show me every answer in the end.
I stared and stared at every star for hours.
I couldn't find my friend.

Every time I stood upon a crossroads,
It made me mad to feel him watch me choose.
I'm glad there's no more spying while I play.
Still, I'm sad he went away.

He was like a kind of central-heating
In the big cold house, and that was good.
One by one I have to chop my toys now,
As firewood.