Poetry Archives

Two years had made Christine a woman grown,
With dignity and gently certain pride.
But all her childhood fancies had not flown,
Her thoughts in lovely dreamings seemed to glide.
Max was her trusted friend, did she confess
A closer happiness?  Max could not tell.
Two years were over and his life he found
Sphered and complete.  In restless eagerness
He waited for the “Horn of Fortune”.  Well
Had he his promise kept, abating not one pound.