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RHYME - Ao (leaianTo P.t(Poet Scott Templeton h*« dedicated the following poem to Pat Neff Templeton, former •tudent of The University of Texas, killed in a Bomber Command of the Royal Air Force on September 7, 1942.)When you were little you dreamed out loud.You said you’d climb above a cloud,O’er thunderheads a plane you’d fly To write your name across the sky.'Twas just a dream in blue eyes keen,Under fair hair wild and cowlick mean.Dream or not, God has never metA boyish heart so free from debt.We flew through life together, Pat and I,Little dreaming I’d live; you would died.When at first you skyward flewYour heart sang out in a way so newIt told you then you could not rest’Til the Kings own Crown and CrestWere wove into the wings on your chest.Then with pilots blaze you turned to fly To kiss your Mother a last goodbye.And when from home you finally tore You felt like the “Boy in Upper Four,”Tear stained eyes and heart so soreA boy leaving home for evermore.Of this Texan lad it is fitting to sayHe left this world a real Texan’s way,When death beckoned him at break of dawn He saluted his Maker with his boots on.Pilots so young they knew no hateFlew out one night to meet their fate.Cowards died a thousand times that night,Flirting with death in every flight.Through the night as captains doYou held the helm and held it true;A gentler hand it had neverhadThan that one of you Texas lad.Death you faced without a shrugTho in your chest your heart did tug.Eerie searchlights stabbed the skiesFrightening hearts and blinding eyes,They seemed to catch and then to holdThe planes above so black and cold.You held the course straight on trackAs you maneuvered through the flack.Twisting and turning, climbing and diving,Through to the target you kept on driving.The fires below leapt with glee Made by pathfinders for you to see.Streaks of tracer filled the air, Red hot pencils to burn and tear.The target soon came intosight,Bombardier called, “Right, right.”You eased to the right, then hung on Til the Bombardier shouted, “Bombs gone.”When job was done and homeward turning Your starboard engine began fiercely burning.Like a torch it lit the sky The guns below daring defy Til every searchlight on you boreAnd guns blasted by the score.With one engine gone and wounds to three Finally you twisted and wormed free.What strange destiny brought death to you,That crippled bomber you nursed and flew All the way back to the Emerald Isle,To safely land you needed but a mile.We heard your engine quit and saw you fall And crash in flames on a garden wall.Like a torch of freedom your bombers pyre Burned through the night in Oxfordshire.Your home on the range is just a mound Of dew-soaked clay near Oxford found And there you sleep with your crew of four,Only to dream and dream some more.
Newspaper Details
Austin Daily Texan
Austin, Texas, US
Fri, Jan 19, 1945
Page 4
Full Page
Clipped by
Floyd K.
NA, 10 Aug 2023
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Austin Daily Texan
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