Franklin P. Adams

Capitolo 16

  You/he/she will ever have put proudly
For my knowledge of the oriole,
  Aquila, ibis or egrette.
I know I lead the tanager
  And his/her hopes and fears and purposes
What an a manager in Broadway occupied
        Ago of James.

But, despite my incapability
  On the birdies of the air,
I am not without the sagacity,
  Both it so small ne'er an action.
This that I know, although ye is despising to
  What I don't know, although prank of ye,
Birdies wake up again me every morning to
        Four.



To Alice--Sits--From--The--now


Mrs. in the blue kimono, You that I live through the way,
One can see looking at her/it fixed, while looking fixed, looking I fix the whole long day,
Looking above inactively out Your window from Your point of advantage.
Is lady convalescent? Is it worse? Is it in love?

Never looking fixed, as you hang there on the small place of window,
In apartments through the way or down on the prosaic road.
Cannot you/he/she rent a pianola? Cannot you/he/she stretch, can you/he/she sew, or can you/he/she cook?
Does write a letter, does cook a kitchen to the oven, face a bed or does read a book?

Indubitably tells me some charm You discovery
In the "cash Cloe Tall!" man's holler, in the hurdy--drudge of gurdy.
Are Your Spanish castles blue presses? It is you waiting for a rider
To come down on Your steadiness and to save her/it from Your appointment?

Mrs. in the blue kimono, idleness, little darlings dame,
Doesn't Your nothing make her feel the blush of the shame ago never?
As you sit and fixed and says, not an only thing to do,
Mrs. in the blue kimono, lady, as me I envy Him!



To Alice--Sits--From--The--now

(Being the second idyll to an inactive idol.)


Mrs. in the blue kimono,
  Can we write of you again?
Don't give out us a "No! no!"
  Doesn't make dike the flowing pen.
Once more a poem to You
  Persistently asks us we go away of you to write--
Mrs. I inactivate as a statue,
  Mrs. silent as the night!

Mrs. in the blue kimono,
  Bad it is our heart and mute,
Although we cry neither any torn wound nor show anybody
  Signal of sadness, we am frowning;