Hans Ostrom’s “Knight” strips the armored hero down to a figure abandoned by everyone. The court has forgotten where it sent him; his squire has left. He sits alone against a tree, his armor bleeding rust, rain coming, sitting in his own waste and pain. The mood is bleak and bitterly unheroic. The knight peers through his visor at wet green hills while cold rain tears leaves from branches. Even his horse stands at a distance, dry under an evergreen, one rear foot cocked like a catapult—indifferent. The armor becomes a jail locking around him. As he dies, he thinks of his murdering and the blood and terror he caused, and nearly asks forgiveness once more before death cuts him off. The poem feels damp, cold, and quietly devastating.
Knight — Summary
Court had forgotten where it had sent Knight. Squire had quit to settle down in some village. So here then was Knight, alone,
propped up against a deciduous tree, his armor bleeding rust, and more rain coming. Sitting in his own waste and pain, Knight peered
blearily through the visor at sodden, green Druidic hills. Cold rain ripped remaining leaves from branches. The horse stood
a good way off, dry and napping under an evergreen, one rear foot cocked like a catapult. Knight felt the jail of armor locking.
A chill rattled his flesh. He thought of his murdering, the blood and terror, was about to ask forgiveness once more when he died.