A Word For It

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Title:     A Word For It
Author: Franklin P. Adams [More Titles by Adams]

"Scorn not the sonnet." Well, I reckon not,
I would not scorn a rondeau, villanelle,
Ballade, sestina, triolet, rondel,
Or e'en a quatrain, humble and forgot,
An so it made my Pegasus to trot
His morning lap what time he heard the bell;
An so it made the poem stuff to jell--
To mix a met.--an so it boil'd the pot.

Oh, sweet set form that varies not a bit!
I taste thy joy, not quite unknown to Keats.
"Scorn?" Nay, I love thy fine symmetric grace.
In sonnets one knows always where to quit,
Unlike in other poems where one cheats
And strings it out to fill the yawning space.

[The end]
Franklin P. Adams's poem: Word For It

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