Poetry Archives

I’ll give you just one week to make your case.
On August thirty-first, eighteen-fourteen,
I shall require your proof.”  With wondering face
Franz cried, “A week to August, and fourteen
The year!  You’re mad, ’tis April now.
April, and eighteen-twelve.”  Max staggered, caught
A chair,— “April two years ago!  Indeed,
Or you, or I, are mad.  I know not how
Either could blunder so.”  Hilverdink brought
“The Amsterdam Gazette”, and Max was forced to read.