Explore "The Joy of Flying" by Paul Bewsher on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When heavy on my tired mind / The world, and worldly things, do weigh, / And some sweet solace I would find, / Into the sky I love to stray, / And, all alone, to wander round / In lone seclusion from the ground.
Ah! Then what solitude is mine -- / From grovelling mankind aloof! / Their road is but a thin-drawn line: / Their busy house a scarce-seen roof. / That little stain of red and brown / They boast about! -- It is their town!