The Quest

There is a green star fiercely burning
In the singing of the night;
And there are watchers on worlds turning
Under its strange and emerald light.

There was a noble desert knight,
Clad in steel, armed with same,
Bred of sand and the stony height,
Proud for lady, proud for name.

There was a cathedral of the wood
Built long ago by an elder race;
Where their other works had stood,
Relentless time had left no trace.

There he sought the crown of flowers
That once had wreathed an elfin brow.
It had stayed fair while mighty towers
Weathered, crumpled, and fell low.

But there were warriors in the stone
Sworn forever to guard the kirk.
Their sword blades gleamed, their helmets shone:
They assault intruders where they lurk.

There are dragons in the twilight,
Over the dusk clouds sailing,
Where champions battled in the night
And champions' souls departed wailing.

There are bones to match the cries,
Men of family and fair name,
Thirty who had sought the prize:
Thirty-one now rest in shame.

—San Diego
1/24/74