“ . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . one night my vow
Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled,
But wail’d and wept, and hated mine own self,
And even the holy quest, and all but her;
Then after I was join’d with Galahad
Cared not for her nor anything upon earth.” –Percivale, Idylls of the King
All but her
Not for her Continue reading “Percival”
Rural Oklahoma Museum of Poetry 