Poetry Archives

Briskly Max walked beside the still canal.
His step was firm with purpose.  Not a jot
He feared this meeting, nor the rancorous gall
Grootver would spit on him who marred his plot.
He dreaded no man, since he could protect
Christine.  His wife!  He stopped and laughed aloud.
His starved life had not fitted him for joy.
It strained him to the utmost to reject
Even this hour with her.  His heart beat loud.
“Damn Grootver, who can force my time to this employ!”