The Tournament

Bright shone the lists, blue bent the skies,

And the knights still hurried amain

To the tournament under the ladies' eyes,

Where the jousters were Heart and Brain.

Flourished the trumpets, entered Heart,

A youth in crimson and gold;

Flourished again; Brain stood apart,

Steel-armoured, dark and cold.

Heart's palfrey caracoled gaily round,

Heart tra-li-ra'd merrily;

But Brain sat still, with never a sound,

So cynical-calm was he.

Heart's helmet-crest bore favours three

From his lady's white hand caught;

While Brain wore a plumeless casque; not he

Or favour gave or sought.

The trumpet blew; Heart shot a glance

To catch his lady's eye.

But Brain gazed straight ahead, his lance

To aim more faithfully.

They charged, they struck; both fell, both bled;

Brain rose again, ungloved;

Heart, dying, smiled and faintly said,

"My love to my beloved."