Henry Longfellow (his last name is not indicative of anything), a nodding acquaintance of mine, once wrote the following...
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
Actually, Henry, as you can see, you just missed my heart, but hit my big toe nicely. Thanks, buddy.
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
Actually, Henry, as you can see, you just missed my heart, but hit my big toe nicely. Thanks, buddy.
I am currently composing a similar poem tentatively entitled The MX Cruise Missile and Pure Poetry. Let me know where it lands.
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