Imagine that huge ogre glaring green

Burst in this Christmas, snorting on a charger,

Flashing a hatchet, holding a bright sprig

Of holly, thundering his cold steel challenge.

Comic almost but terrible to face

This guest, especially when all glows pleasant

Around the blazing tree so snug and green

While outside everything grips white with freezing.

Crying your lineage, “Gawain, Gawain . . .” Sir,

Accept the dare: Decapitate the monster,

Witness his black sap spurting, sticking like

Molasses on the faces of your children.

Time will not prove you braver or more strong

Than you stand at this moment; in the death grapple

Finally you shall abide his sequel blow

After black siege in the ice-sheeted chapel.