Franklin Pierce Adams

(15 November 1881 – 23 March 1960 / Chicago, Illinois)

Us Potes - Poem by Franklin Pierce Adams

Swift was sweet on Stella;
Poe had his Lenore;
Burns' fancy turned to Nancy
And a dozen more.

Poe was quite a trifler;
Goldsmith was a case;
Byron'd flirt with any skirt
From Liverpool to Thrace.

Sheridan philandered;
Shelley, Keats, and Moore
All were there with some affair
Far from lit'rachoor.

Fickle is the heart of
Each immortal bard.
Mine alone is made of stone-
Gotta work too hard.


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Read poems about / on: work, alone, heart



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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