Franklin P. Adams

Capitolo 18

  If, haply, you are able but it conceive him/it--
How Fahrenheit as Laurence Hope--
      You would not believe him/it.

You not;  but, oh, Another is able!
  For, by and large and together,
Us poteses have to be incomprenssi.
               * * *
        What a beautiful time!



"A Donna Perfetta Nobly Planned"

(The men that want the perfect wife should marry himself/herself/themselves a
"escort-ransom." You come more convenient.--_London Chronicle_.)

Ah, Myrtilla the pain and darling me!
  Lackadaydee and alas!
What is this, me very I fear me,
          Has that come to pass?

Persistently asking, as I do, the perfection,
  Abhorring nothing as lacks,
I have to raise a disdains objection
          To Your laws of building.

You are five one-and-a-quarter,
  And Your strap is thirty-three--
Myrtie, you are a little more shortly a
          What you should be.

It is away from my intentions
  Your proportions to describe,
Shortly, Myrtie, Your dimensions
          You don't seem to grant.

Goodbye, Myrt, for Ethelisa
  It seems to be my certain fate,
Stupid? Foolish? Sure, but she is a
          Perfections thirty-eight.



An Ultimatum to Myrtilla

(Inhaled by the shameless styles in hair.)


Ah, Myrtilla digs, you said--
  And Your tone was serious, a lot--
You would never decorate Your head
  With this spring millinery.

Myrt, not to mince words that you have lied;
  Oh, that I should live to know him/it!
You that is my almost-bride;
  Me that is Your almost-poet!

For me I saw the terrible cover
  You had above at 10 o'clock this morning;
Myrt, was a merrywid,
  Spite of my decisive warning.

Anchor, I can forgive her/it that;
  Although the so foolish ne'er of glance of thing;
I will neglect the hat
  If you promise this Myrtillie,:

Hands Your lacebelowses and downs;
  Hands the creations of awfullest--
But--omits the elegant puffs
  And the transformations of vogueish.

Myrt, if you inflate Your hair
 I am able--well--you excoriate Him,
And, I positively swear,
 Abhors, contempts, detest, and you hate Him.



Gustatory love


Myrtilla, I have seen Him eat--