All English Sonnets
I often hear the aviators speak,
In lighter moments, claim with candid glee,
“with littlest sowing, we rich harvests reap.”
And then indulge in wildest ribaldry.
Their ribald conversation, amorous spree
Are like the harmless look of coiled up spring,
Which if by mistake handled carelessly.
Can loosen held-up tension, damage bring.
And these playmates of the endless blue,
Unused to leisure, can not clearly see
Their bee-hike busyness all life through.
So when they get some moments which are free;
In crew rooms sit and buzz like bees on hives,
As if they have been longing all their lives.