Franklin Pierce Adams

[F.P.A.] (15 November 1881 – 23 March 1960 / Chicago, Illinois)

Franklin Pierce Adams Poems

1. How 3/30/2012
2. The Ballade Of The Average Reader 3/30/2012
3. Help 3/30/2012
4. Ballade Of The Hardy Annual 3/30/2012
5. Bedbooks 3/30/2012
6. To A Light Houskeeper 3/30/2012
7. Office Mottoes 3/30/2012
8. 'Carpe Diem,' Or Cop The Day 3/30/2012
9. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished 3/30/2012
10. A Plea 3/30/2012
11. An Election Night Pantoum 3/30/2012
12. A Summer Summary 3/30/2012
13. Ballade Of The Breakfast Table 3/30/2012
14. Advice 3/30/2012
15. An Ultimatum To Myrtilla 3/30/2012
16. And Yet It Is A Gentle Art 3/30/2012
17. To W. Hohenzollern, On Discontinuing The Conning Tower 1/3/2003
18. The Ballad Of Justifiable Homicide 1/3/2003
19. Lines On And From 1/3/2003
20. Old Environment 1/3/2003
21. Vain Words 1/3/2003
22. A Quatrain 3/30/2012
23. Rich Man 3/30/2012
24. On Profiteering 1/3/2003
25. To W. Hohenzollern, On Resuming The Conning Tower 1/3/2003
26. Variation On A Theme 1/3/2003
27. Thoughts In A Far Country 1/3/2003
28. Maud Muller Mutatur 1/3/2003
29. A Soft Susurrus 3/30/2012
30. A Word For It 3/30/2012
31. A Wish 3/30/2012
32. I'M Out Of The Army Now 1/3/2003
33. Regarding (1) The U.S. And (2) New York 1/3/2003
34. Song Of Synthetic Virility 1/3/2003
35. The Last Laugh 1/3/2003
36. A Poor Excuse, But Our Own 3/30/2012
37. Oh Man! 1/3/2003
38. Unshackled Thoughts On Chivalry, Romance, Adventure, Etc. 1/3/2003
39. It Was A Famous Victory 1/3/2003
40. A New York Child's Garden Of Verses 3/30/2012

Comments about Franklin Pierce Adams

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Franklin Pierce Adams

A Psalm Of Labouring Life

Tell me not, in doctored numbers,
Life is but a name for work!
For the labour that encumbers
Me I wish that I could shirk.

Life is phony! Life is rotten!
And the wealthy have no soul;
Why should you be picking cotton,
Why should I be mining coal?

Not employment and not sorrow
Is my destined end or way;
But to act that each tomorrow
Finds me idler than today.

Work is long, and plutes are lunching;
Money is the thing I crave;
But my heart continues punching
Funeral time-clocks to the grave.

In the world's uneven battle, ...

Read the full of A Psalm Of Labouring Life

On A Wine Of Horace's

What time I read your mighty line,
O Mr. Q. Horatius Flaccus,
In praise of many an ancient wine--
You twanged a wickid lyric to Bacchus!--
I wondered, like a Yankee hick,
If that old stuff contained a kick.

So when upon a Paris card
I glimpsed a Falernian, I said: "Waiter,

[Report Error]