By: Molly E. Hamilton

At Christmas Gawain offers
to save his king
He swears to face a knight of green, a giant, a force
of fairy magic. Blow for blow,
the massive head rolls only to speak again
But Yvain envies Gawain's quest,
while Arcite and Palamon yearn for Emily
Yvain sits at his table
to hear cousin Calogrenant's woes
So on a quest Yvain goes, seeking a storm
and a mighty knight in red
Esclados, angry as the stone's storm, charges
But Yvain splits his brains,
sending them to the bubbling stream,
before Tristan's plucked the final string
on his bleeding harp
Young Perceval watches
and dares to dream and serve,
for chivalry—but not for Sir Kay,
he that mocks and sways in arrogance
And Lancelot sleeps with the queen,
fair and envied by wrinkled Le Fay
But from the darkest sin Galahad is made
He who embodies holiness
and lives to show how chivalry should be
Gawain wears a sash to remember his shame
Arcite bleeds into Mars's red
Yvain loses his horse and clothes
But all can be remade to heroes


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