Aircraft (1958-59)

They used to be both small and slow,
The aeroplanes of long ago.
But now the eyes may clearly see
The graceful lines, the majesty
Of Comets, Viscounts, Caravelles,
Flying over foreign dells.
In tranquil air remote they fly,
Above the grey to azure sky,
To where the clouds are white as snow,
To where, alone, these aircraft go.
To where there lies a wilderness
Of time, of space, of barrenness.
And there, amidst the spangled sky,
There, amidst the clouds, am I.

D. LITTLEWOOD, 4C