The Battle of Britain 15 September 1940 What did we earth-bound make of it? A tangle Of vapour trails, a vertiginously high Swarming of midges, at most a fiery apgel Hurled out of heaven, was all we could descry. How could we know the agony and pride That scrawled those fading signatures up there, And the cool expertise of them who died Or lived through that delirium of the air Grounded on history now, we re-enact Such lives, such deaths. Time, laughing out of court The newspaper heroics and the faked Statistics, leaves us only to record. What was, what might have been fighter and bomber The tilting sky, tense moves and counterings; Those who outlived that legendary summer; Those who went down, it's sunlight on their wings. And you, unborn then, what will you make of it- This shadow-play of battles long ago? Be sure of this: they pushed to the uttermost limit Their luck, skill, nerve. And they were young like you.
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