Oh, I Have slipped the surly bonds of earth,

and danced the skies on laughter, silvered wings;

sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth.

Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things.

I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,

where never lark, or even eagle flew;

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod.

The high, un-trespassed sanctity of space,

put out my hand, and touched the face of God.