Otero Junior College Chinook

	Estiene Promised there, in morn’s light, All the world, seemed right, Until the king’s riders came, Asking Estiene of his name, For whom, his sword bound… Estiene looked at the ground, Her heart’s now my pride, So with France, I’ll ride, I begged him, please stay, What else could I say… He fell into my eyes, Eyes moistening…I cried, Love, said he, my sword… And my word, And yours bound us so… This you must surely know, With these men, I ride, Wait and past coming night, We will once again embrace, At altar, with God’s grace, Now, honor calls me so… Honor, so I must go, To Agincourt he did ride, And there, he did die, Perhaps by swords cruel bite, Or by arrow’s swift flight, Such, I could not bear… That night, I went there… Amongst ruin, blood, death, Horrors to still my breath, And still I searched on… My love was gone… Those who saw him fall, Nobly he answered honors call, So they said… My love was surely dead. —Steven K. Taillebois OJC Arts Department Faculty
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