To The RAF

Never since English ships went out
To singe the beard of Spain,
Or English sea-dogs hunted death
Along the Spanish Main,
Never since Drake and Raleigh won
Our freedom of the seas,
Have sons of Britain dared and done
More valiantly than these.

Whether at midnight or at noon,
Through mist or open sky,
Eagles of freedom, all our hearts
Are up with you on high;
While Britain's mighty ghosts look down
From realms beyond the sun
And whisper, as their record pales,
Their breathless, deep, Well Done!

DEATH IS A FISHERMAN
Benjamin Franklin

Death is a fisherman, the world we see 
His fish-pond is, and we the fishes be; 
His net some general sickness; howe'er he 
Is not so kind as other fishers be; 
For if they take one of the smaller fry, 
They throw him in again, he shall not die: 
But death is sure to kill all he can get, 
And all is fish with him that comes to net.