Evening Songs (1920)/2
II
I am the knight from the old tale
Who proudly to the far world rode
To see the lass who’s like a rose
And to discover her abode.
Who would behold her—said her fame—
Would by a ban at once be struck;
His heart would be rent from his breast,
Or he would change to be a rock.
Thought I to myself, possibly
For clemency there might be room.
I ventured out and for my sin—
Became a bard by rigid doom.