'Scorn not the sonnet.' Well, I reckon not, <br /> I would not scorn a rondeau, villanelle, <br /> Ballade, sestina, triolet, rondel, <br />Or e'en a quatrain, humble and forgot, <br />An so it made my Pegasus to trot <br /> His morning lap what time he heard the bell; <br /> An so it made the poem stuff to jell- <br />To mix a met.-an so it boil'd the pot. <br /> <br />Oh, sweet set form that varies not a bit! <br /> I taste thy joy, not quite unknown to Keats. <br /> 'Scorn? ' Nay, I love thy fine symmetric <br /> grace. <br />In sonnets one knows always where to quit, <br /> Unlike in other poems where one cheats <br /> And strings it out to fill the yawning <br /> space.<br /><br />Franklin P. Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-word-for-it/
