If I should die, don’t think of me at all

Unless,world-weary,you prefer like me

To waste your life against life’s ocean-wall

And spend your freedom crying to be free.

Think then, this May, how building whitethroats call

In England’s woods, and how from every tree

Blanched blossom dangles, and young girls are all

In love, and green corn slants above the sea

I never asked for life, nor thanked who gave

Me unconsulted to the angry years

In sacrifice. My soul, not framed a slave,

Climbed to the clouds and with those other brave

Welcomed the bullets that belied our fears,

The last long dive to death, and this, our grave.

Pilot, P/O. George Eades, 431 Squadron, Wellington X HE503 SE-S. Crashed, with the loss of all the crew 26/27th March 1943. Submitted to Aircrew Remembered by his relatives, in July 2012. Note: This poem along with many others was published in 1942. The book "Thy Muse Hath Wings" is no longer available.

However the relatives, with Aircrew Remembered , are hoping to have it reprinted. Permission must be sought before reproducing/copying any of the poems in this article from the family of the late George Eades (nephew), (Sisters Janet and Brenda, widow and daughters) Please respect this!