The Knight Errant

The Knight rides forth! His bannered spear
           Is raised against the skies.

He bears his golden shield, whose mark
           Is like the flag he flies.
His helm above his face is set,
           Like to a shining crown,
And from atop his noble steed
           With pride he gazes down.

No battle yet has marred his mail,
           No conflict cleft his shield;
No blood has he from any drawn,
           Nor has his blood been spilled.
His or and azure banner still
           No tide of war has torn.
His honor all is vested in
           The House where he was born.

The road he rides will lead him through
           Harsh trials of the heart.
His skills with sword and tongue will all
           Be tested, torn apart;
Some battles will be lost be him,
           And others bravely won,
But wound nor wile shall slay him 'till
           His errant days are done.

Then rides he on! Now bannerless,
           His spear trails on the ground.
His golden shield lies broken where
           It never shall be found.
His helm he holds in hand: and ever,
           'Till the day he dies,
His humble face is lifted up
           To gaze into the skies.

T. G. 4/3/20