Poetry Archives

But at the gate once more she held him close
And quenched her heart again upon his lips.
“My Sweetheart, why this terror?  I propose
But to be gone one hour!  Evening slips
Away, this errand must be done.”  “Max!  Max!
First goes my father, if I lose you now!”
She grasped him as in panic lest she drown.
Softly he laughed, “One hour through the town
By moonlight!  That’s no place for foul attacks.
Dearest, be comforted, and clear that troubled brow.