Gwenhwyfar--the spelling in Marion Zimmer Bradley's books, that is.
a poem.
Shiveringly gentle, eyes the most pious pale
Blue glass that swivel round, searching
Ceaseless, for a light not forbidden, not within
The grasp of cold and insolent courtly
Winds--how you fall, so softly, back to this
Wifedom of yours, duty of yours. O sweet
Woman, nothing is yours. Nothing but this,
Your torture, and no longer private, no
Not even this. What your Lord knows, what your
Ladies know, comes to matter not at all
When matched against the storming of your heart,
The sorry pain of atonements on lying knees.
You restrain your desire to love; o, Queen,
Your very piety brands you libertine.