After The Quarrel

A poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon

Laurence Raby’s Chamber. LAURENCE enters, a little the worse for liquor.

Laurence:
He never gave me a chance to speak,
And he call’d her, worse than a dog,
The girl stood up with a crimson cheek,
And I fell’d him there like a log.

I can feel the blow on my knuckles yet,
He feels it more on his brow.
In a thousand years we shall all forget
The things that trouble us now.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'After The Quarrel' by Adam Lindsay Gordon

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy