... The dullest member drops his coffee spoon.
THE KNOCKOUT
The bell clanged “Time!” again. The boxers sparred,
Creep-footed, tiger-muscled, cautious-eyed,
Love the bright pugilist with his glance enskied,
Fate swart as rock, indomitably hard.
Slashing the battle joined of bull and pard
With blows like hammerstrokes. A thick sob died
In the crowd’s throat. Fate’s poison-smile grew wide,
His mountainous fist ripped Love’s too-careless guard.