"The Legend of the White Hart (NEW POEM)" by Tansy A. H. Pye

The Legend of the White Hart

With his sights on the Hart, the archer took aim
The proud stag’s head dipped to the pond to drink.
But the wind then changed as fortunes do.
The noble creature raised it’s head
And turned to him and stared.
Its deep eyes of azure hue froze the archer’s bow
Then as he paused it stamped its hoof
And turned to walk away.
“Wait!” Cried the archer and dropped his bow.
I pray you, grant my boon.
Wait a while, to hear my tale of woe.
For if I fail my quest this day my love will surely die.

The noble beast a prince too they say considered his request.
Then lay down a while on the grassy bank
to hear the archer’s quest.
It was a tale of tragedy of evil and decay.
A dark sorcerer had cast a spell upon his maiden fair.
And took her heart and turned it black to make a bride of her.
The archer travelled far and wide to find a man so wise.
To know the cure for the maiden’s heart
Before she became evil’s bride.
The wise man said, the only cure for a heart that was turned so black
Was to find a creature pure as snow
With heart as white as hers is dark
To remove this heart while still it beats
And feed it to her upon the wedding day.
For a thousand days and a thousand miles this creature he had sought.
Thus he came to this magic glade to cure his love and save his soul
For surely he would die, if he could not save
His one true love and make of her his bride.

The white hart stood and turned to him
A tear rolled down it’s cheek.
“Then take up your bow, sir, and complete your quest,
You have your love to save.
And truly I have never heard a tale so truly grave.”
The archer drew and loosed his shaft
The noble beast was slain.
But was this the cure the maiden craved?
Well now that’s another tale.

Tansy Pye