sonnet I saw the sad

I saw the sad eyed donkeys on a yoke
Their salt cart drew beside a mosque of mud
Off every storey stuck a floor beam stud
And over ramparts floated songs of folk
Id faced my fortune fickle foe the joke
The short sword fake in fight a fractured dud
The halberd heavy honest steel and oak

The arrow lit of smoke and fire thick thud
She steered a steed with her hair streaming rear
Bells silver strung on ankles signalled moves
The silver signet ring implied a peer
I heard clickclack of silver shoes on hooves
She stroked white salt wisps marks on my surcoat
A damsel pretty nice Id dream or note
Chorus surcoat surcot sobreveste