Sword In Hand, Beau Tied Fair. Poem by Michael Gale

With sword in hand, do I mount...
Nobly searching, Love's own count.

Light of heart in Love's affairs...
learnedly do I climb these stairs.

Affairs of the heart do I sway...
Of thy own obstacle's, uttered say.

Tongue of heart, beastly opted...
Head done split, kindly chop ted.

Angled head, done astray...
Dangled strangely, must I pray.

For her heart, had I fought...
With a dragon, not I sought.

Maiden fair as fair of old...
Smite me with a beauty,
breathtakingly bold.