Poetry Archives

Home, through the emptying streets, Max took Christine,
Who would have hid her sorrow from his gaze.
Before the iron gateway, clasped between
Each garden wall, he stopped.  She, in amaze,
Asked, “Do you enter not then, Mynheer Breuck?
My father told me of your courtesy.
Since I am now your charge, ’tis meet for me
To show such hospitality as maiden may,
Without disdaining rules must not be broke.
Katrina will have coffee, and she bakes today.”