A lad he learns, while at apron strings, in warrior's ways to play;

Mother’s brave little boy, building dreams of daring deeds again,

Their names may no longer be known, but their truths are ever told:

The smith of a warriors' heart works soft ore, hammer’d hard and strong.

A youth he yearns a hero's name, by his worth to win one day.

Well above the warrior's bench, do heroes sit in honor's hall.

The smith of a hero's heart works valor's forge with fire and tong:

But few are the lives the Fates do spin with threads of hero's steel,

Those hearts of legend and ancient rhyme to name a few I bid:

Noble Nevsky, Relentless Roland, Mighty Mac Cumhaill of Eire,

The youth yet finds—that the hero's path may be too hard to take;

So the smith of a knight's stout soul, softens hero's steel with grace,

A lady ‘twas, first that found, the secret of chivalry’s heart:

Humility and kind compassion, work warrior into knight,

For long ages have we listened to the lore of knights well known.

We crave more than tales of triumph—tell us his “true-heart’s’’ story:

Chivalry's path demands a stout soul, marked by the choices made,

The smith of a chivalric heart works hôher muot * and mind:

Who are chivalry's paragons? Whose names rise above mere men?

Arthur and his knights, Barbarossa—asleep ‘neath mountain vault,

To his final breath the sworn-knight strives a better man to be;

The ways marking “warrior” from “knight”, are in {.|normalize||why|.} and {.|normalize||how|.} we fight;

Few of us follow the path of hero, or of noble knight;

For chivalry is a path of choices, ever without end:

Grace gives us inspiration: humanity with humility.

The smith of a graceful heart, works with the basest metals best,