To A Vers Librist

"Oh bard," I said, "your verse is free;
The shackles that encumber me,
The fetters that are my obsession,
Are never gyves to your expression.

"The fear of falsities in rhyme,
In metre, quantity, or time,
Is never yours; you sing along
Your unpremeditated song."

"Correct," the young vers librist said.
"Whatever pops into my head
I write, and have but one small fetter:
I start each line with a capital letter.

"But rhyme and metre--Ishkebibble!--
Are actually negligible.
I go ahead, like all my school,
Without a single silly rule."

Of rhyme I am so reverential
He made me feel quite inconsequential.
I shed some strongly saline tears
For bards I loved in younger years.

"If Keats had fallen for your fluff,"
I said, "he might have done good stuff.
If Burns had thrown his rhymes away,
His songs might still be sung to-day."

O bards of rhyme and metre free,
My gratitude goes out to ye
For all your deathless lines--ahem!
Let's see, now . . . What is one of them?

Poem topics: , , , ,

Rate this poem:

Add To A Vers Librist poem to your favorites

Add Poet Franklin Pierce Adams to your favorites

Similar Poems
There is no similar poems related to "To A Vers Librist" poem.
All Franklin Pierce Adams Poems

Popular Poets

Emily Pauline Johnson (0 poems)
Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin (4 poems)
Willard Wattles (3 poems)
Phillis Wheatley (38 poems)
Sarah Pratt McLean Greene (1 poems)
Emily Huntington Miller (1 poems)
James Oppenheim (4 poems)
Queen Elizabeth I (2 poems)
Donald Hall (5 poems)
Charles Hamilton Sorley (9 poems)

Popular Poems

The Old Man's Wish, by Anonymous Americas
Tribute To Oliver Wendell Holmes, by Julia Ward Howe
Clasping Of Hands, by George Herbert
Used-Up Joe, by Henry Clay Work
The Dead Host's Welcome, by John Fletcher
Sleep, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ulmarra, by Henry Kendall
To An Ungentle Critic, by Robert Graves
The Angel Mother, by Joseph Skipsey
To Tirzah, by William Blake