Today I would like to write a poem breathing the spirit of modern times, beating as proudly as demon wings that scour the earth from pole to pole. Why do folk grumble? Why do they sigh for the old outworn romantic jumble? Romance is today in the engines that sing in the blue upper air, and you who have not understood their refrain have no right to despair. For their song brings to men the enduring strength of supple steel wings. These birds, before long, shall cast seed on the land. Their echoing song hails the freedom of man. They shall fly over ocean and tropical belt, where corn is in motion, where snows never melt. I proclaim new romance being born and maturing, the aeroplane racing - a power embracing the whole world today.
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