Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE AIR MAIL, by BERTON BRALEY



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THE AIR MAIL, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: No stunting's allowed in the service
Last Line: We're carrying uncle sam's mail!
Subject(s): Air Travel; Postal Service; Postmen; Post Office; Mail; Mailmen


No stunting's allowed in the Service,
Although we could stunt if we chose;
But our pilots' copper-lined nerve is
For other requirements than those.
We fly when the tempests are blowing,
We buck through the fog or the hail,
Our stunt is to go—and keep going,
We're carrying Uncle Sam's Mail!

At midday you'll hear our planes humming
And see them, perhaps, in the sky,
At midnight our motors are drumming
As steadily onward we fly.
We whoop over forest and mountain
We swoop over river and vale,
We've got to be guys you can count on,
We're carrying Uncle Sam's Mail.

Height records? We fret not about 'em.
Speed records? They're not in our line.
And yet we move swiftly without 'em,
On schedule, rain, snow or shine.
The eagle and hawk lag behind us
Along our aerial trail,
Look up when we're due—you will find us,
We're carrying Uncle Sam's Mail!





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