A solitary
Tidied mass
Of medieval stone,
Fragmented,
Amorphous
Cropped,
And neatly
Presented in
Modern-Dutch form.
Unpleasantly
Pressed between
Prison and plant
On reclaimed
Reconstructed pasture--
Well-removed
From the river,
Once her purpose,
Her realm--
Unsuited, high and dry.
Lone settled
Remnant of
The marshes
Primeval--
When Father Rijn
Truly was
The northern edge
Of an amenable
Mother Earth.
And singing
Solely now
That ancient
Reedy strain,
Lest Dort
Forget the
The blood, greed,
And coldness
Of her past.