Explore "A Word for It" by Franklin P. Adams on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"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.