Red Cross Knight

See him kneeling at his rite, red cross knight --
I must turn my face away,
gaze devoutly at the light, look contrite,
lest my eyes my heart betray.
Yet that heart will disobey, go astray,
heedless of my wretched plight,
make me dream that in some day's tender play
I may hold the red cross knight.

For his prayers to scale the heights, heart ignites;
ice his ardor in the fray;
stern devotion, skillful fight will excite
more than peaceful arts can sway.
Songs cannot my sorrow stay, nor allay;
bitter-edged the truth will bite:
in my heart the only way that I may
ever hold the red cross knight.

The briar with heavy roses dight, rich and bright,
full of life and promise, they --
sweet as passion their delight, scent and sight --
then their fullness must decay.
In a mortar crushed and brayed, pressed like clay
into rose beads hard and tight --
I will string and on them pray for the day
I may hold the red cross knight.