Sonnets from the Cycle of Man III

Stuck 'neath a fallen willow branch, I call
Into the wind; mayhaps a peasant
Will hear my knightly cry; I cans't e'en crawl
'cause my leg is caught by this withered ent.
My faith in God remain ever true,
My Madonna I pray to fervantly,
My heart ever ruled by the five virtues.
The lady I used to love so fondly,
Whom I treated most chastely and with the
Greatest respect, whom I gave the very
Soul of my most faithful being; yea, thee,
My earthly love, I have grave doubts of thee.
     It was you who desired this trip to hell,
     And seemed to glance at something 'bove the
          branch that fell.