Quote: Christian Hamilton

Gods: I have flown!
All my young body is broken on the rocks
And all the red cliffs swim before my eyes—
The summer haze, perhaps—or my sight fails—
Dim world, these eyes of mine shall open soon
On great Olympus. Hah! I shall tell Jove
That I have flown—I, Icarus, a mortal!
Oh, the sun burns down pitiless upon me
And on my crushed white wings—my wings—my wings—
Why did I fly so high? I might by now
Be safe, if only—only—Ah, but FLYING
High and yet higher into the burning blue
Above the ochre crags and jade green sea!
How could I help it—how do otherwise?
And when the softening wax upon my shoulders
Let the great plumes slip sideways and I fell
Hardly was terror there. I saw the rocks
Rush up to meet me, and I knew that never
Never would Icarus rise again.

But I have flown—have flown. These are my wings,
All crushed and torn and dabbled—they are wings,
And this day on Olympus Jove shall know. . . .

How the cliffs shudder . . . and the sun is scorching . . .
Pain stabs my broken body so—I die—
Gods: I have flown!

This piece is called “Icarus” and I encountered it in a little book called Icarus: An Anthology of the Poetry of Flight. This compilation was produced in 1938 by several cadets and one “R de la Bere,” as a collection of verse honoring flight, from all regions and times.

It pairs nicely with “Daedalus,” also available here.