Jeffery Day
A sudden roar, a mighty rushing sound,
A jolt or two, a smoothly sliding rise,
A tumbled blur of disappearing ground,
And then all sense of motion slowly dies,
Quiet and calm, the earth slips past below,
As underneath a bridge still waters flow.
My turning wing inclines toward the ground;
The ground itself glides up with graceful swing
And at lane’s far tip twirls slowly round,
Then drops from sight again beneath the wing
To slip away serenely as before,
A cubist-patterned carpet on the floor.
Hills gently sink and valleys gently fill.
The flattened fields grow ludicrously small;
Slowly they pass beneath and slower still
Until they hardly seem to move at all.
Then suddenly they disappear from sight
Hidden by fleeting wisps of faded white.
The wing-tips, faint and dripping, dimly show
Blurred by the wreaths of mist that intervene.
Weird, half-seen shadows flicker to and fro
Across the pallid fog-bank’s blinding screen.
At last the choking mists release their hold,
And all the world is silver, blue and gold.
The air is clear, more clear than sparkling wine;
Compared with this wine is a turgid brew.
The far horizon makes a clean-cut line
Between the silver and depthless blue.
Out of the snow-white level reared on high
Glittering hills surge up to meet the sky.
Outside the wind screen’s shelter gales may race;
But in the seat a cool and gentle breeze
Blows steadily upon my grateful face.
As I sit motionless and at my ease,
Contented just to loiter in the sun
And gaze around me till the day is done.
And so I sit half sleeping, half awake,
Dreaming a happy dream of golden days
Until at last, with a reluctant shake
I rouse myself and with lingering gaze
At all the splendour of the shining plain
Make ready to come down to earth again.
The engine stops; a pleasant silence reigns-
Silence, not broken, but intensified
By the soft, sleepy wire’ insistent strains,
That rise and fall as with a sweeping glide
I slither down the well-oiled sides of space,
Towards a lower, less enchanted place.
The clouds draw nearer, changing as they come.
Now, like a flash, fog grips me by the throat.
Down goes the nose: at once the wire’s low hum
Begins to rise in volume and in note,
Till, as I hurtle from the choking cloud
It swells into a scream, high pitched, and loud.
The scattered hues and shades of green and brown
Fashion themselves into the land I know,
Turning and twisting, as I spiral down
Towards the landing-ground; till, skimming low
I glide with slackening speed across the ground,
And come to rest with lightly grating sound.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem vividly captures the essence of flying, from the exhilaration of the ascent to the contemplative serenity of gliding high above the earth, and finally the grounded reality of returning to solid ground. Through its rhythm and imagery, the poem offers an intimate portrayal of the experience of flight, filled with contrasts between freedom and confinement, beauty and danger, calm and turbulence.
The opening lines describe the immediate physical sensations of flight. The “sudden roar, a mighty rushing sound” and the initial “jolt or two” create a sense of movement, excitement, and unpredictability. But as the flight settles into its rhythm, the tone shifts towards peace and stillness: “Quiet and calm, the earth slips past below.” This shift, from chaotic ascent to smooth, controlled flight, mirrors the inner transformation the speaker undergoes. The initial rush of motion is followed by a sense of peaceful detachment, where the earth seems to glide serenely beneath, almost as if the speaker has transcended the mundane world.
As the plane flies higher, the imagery becomes increasingly surreal and dreamlike. The description of the landscape changing—“Hills gently sink and valleys gently fill”—captures the feeling of seeing the world from a new, distorted perspective. The “flattened fields” become “ludicrously small,” emphasizing how distance alters the way we perceive things on the ground. The use of the word “ludicrous” adds a touch of irony, highlighting how trivial the everyday world seems when viewed from the majestic height of the sky.
The poem’s shift to the mist and fog introduces an element of mystery and tension. “Weird, half-seen shadows flicker to and fro” suggests a loss of clarity and control, evoking a brief moment of uncertainty. Yet, this moment of disorientation is soon dispelled by the clarity that follows: “all the world is silver, blue and gold.” The use of light and color here emphasizes the purity and clarity of the experience of flight. The image of the “far horizon” forming a “clean-cut line” between the silver and blue symbolizes the vastness and the untouchable beauty of the aerial world, a place where the speaker feels at ease, removed from the constraints of earthly existence.
The sense of relaxation and freedom in flight is further reinforced as the speaker “sits motionless and at my ease,” content to loiter in the sun. The imagery here is almost meditative, the flight becoming a space for introspection and daydreams. The phrase “half sleeping, half awake” suggests a state of suspended animation, where the speaker is neither fully conscious nor unconscious, but in a liminal space between the two. This sense of limbo adds to the poem’s meditative tone, capturing the way flight can allow one to escape the immediate concerns of the world below.
However, this idyllic experience is not to last. The transition from flight to landing is marked by a growing tension. As the engine “stops,” silence “intensifies,” and the return to the “lower, less enchanted place” is inevitable. The ascent to the skies, which had been a journey of peace and freedom, is now followed by a descent back into the world of noise and chaos, where the flight is abruptly cut short by the harsh realities of landing. The line “the wire’s low hum begins to rise in volume and in note” signals the return to the mechanical world of the plane, and the rising tension in the sound underscores the emotional shift from serenity to action.
The final descent is described with increasing urgency and discomfort. The “choking cloud” of fog grips the speaker, cutting off the view and forcing them to focus on the task at hand. The “high pitched, and loud” scream of the engine signals the return of danger and control, as the speaker prepares to land. Yet, even in this moment of heightened tension, the imagery remains rich and detailed, capturing the speed, the motion, and the complexity of the descent.
The poem ends with the plane touching down, “skimming low” and coming to a “lightly grating sound.” The grounding effect of this final moment is palpable, as the speaker leaves the ethereal, timeless experience of flight and returns to the solid earth. This return to the “less enchanted place” contrasts sharply with the earlier moments of soaring above the world, emphasizing the transitory nature of the flight and the sense of loss that accompanies the end of such an experience.
In terms of theme, the poem explores the dualities of flight: freedom and constraint, peace and tension, beauty and danger. It moves through the stages of flight—taking off, soaring high, descending, and landing—mirroring the emotional arc of the speaker’s journey. At its core, the poem reveals the tension between transcendence and return, the fleeting nature of freedom, and the inevitable pull of the earth. It reflects not only the literal experience of flight but also the emotional journey of escape and return, reminding us of the delicate balance between freedom and the inescapable pull of the ground.
Overall, the poem is a vivid exploration of the experience of flight, both physical and emotional, rich in imagery and sensory details. Through its progression from exhilaration to tension and eventual return, it captures the full range of emotions that come with the experience of soaring through the sky, while also reflecting on the transience of such freedom. The poem leaves readers with a lingering sense of the contrast between the sublime, limitless sky and the earthly world below.