Franklin P. Adams

Capitolo 42

And I am the rotter that loses an absorbent paper
  More often that if he were blind.

But sooner an innumerable searches
  What I/you/he/she go to the worry and troub.
That small of the one cake soapy you/he/she can do
  When soap slips under the tub--
Gates! Gates!
  When soap slips under the tub.



The Flat-hunter's Way


We don't find too much some light;
  Also it is enough noisy to that,;
The people the next stay of door on every night;
  There is but a closet in the apartment;
The lease that we pay is away from least;
  Our apartment is small and in the back;
But we have looked around, and this way
  We think that we will be another year.

Our dine-room is the beautiful dark;
  Our kitchen has warm and very small;
The "sees" that we find of Central Park
  We don't get at all really.
The ceiling breaks and crumbles down
  On me while I am working here--
But, after having combed the whole city,
  We think that we will be another year.

We am not "skilled" to the made up for one;
  Our service of room-boy is a joke;
Our custodian is a foreigner you name
  Who does never something but it smokes
It says our landlord he won't cut
  An expensive lease cent already;
And so we looked for for best--but
  We think that we will be another year.



Birds and Bards

When Milton sang the nightingale of "Or
  What on yon dark spray,"
The sonneteer that we revere
  Praised the disposition of that birdie.

While the ode of Keats on that bird
  It was clear as the notes
What, sweet and strong, it was in the song
  Of the throats of Philomelian.

Be Bryant "To a Water-bird!"
  It had encomium in every line,
And every word on the bird
  Bumped against on the divine one.

When Wordsworth made the stuff of skylark,
  He praised the bird some,
And the ode of Shelley sincerely showed
  He liked the skylark, also.

Poets of Or, if yes had but dwelt
  On a block of Harlem,
Fain is able me I read Your poems sweet
On the "Peet of the sparrows! Peet! Peet!"

The sparrows that have built their nest
Ten feet from where one takes the rest of one,
And 'the gin their happy song, happy