The Knight

The Knight rides forth in coat of mail

Into the roar of the world.

And here is Life: the vines in the vale

And friend and foe, and the feast in the hall,

And May and the maid, and the glen and the grail;

God's flags afloat on every wall

In a thousand streets unfurled.

Beneath the armour of the Knight

Behind the chain's black links

Death crouches and thinks and thinks:

"When will the sword's blade sharp and bright

Forth from the scabbard spring

And cut the network of the cloak

Enmeshing me ring on ring—

When will the foe's delivering stroke

Set me free

To dance

And sing?"