Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.

VII. Love’s Power

The Gillyflower of Gold

William Morris (1834–1896)

A GOLDEN gillyflower to-day

I wore upon my helm alway,

And won the prize of this tourney.

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

However well Sir Giles might sit,

His sun was weak to wither it,

Lord Miles’s blood was dew on it:

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

Although my spear in splinters flew

From John’s steel-coat, my eye was true;

I wheeled about, and cried for you,

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

Yea, do not doubt my heart was good,

Though my sword flew like rotten wood,

To shout, although I scarcely stood,

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

My hand was steady, too, to take

My axe from round my neck, and break

John’s steel-coat up for my love’s sake.

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

When I stood in my tent again,

Arming afresh, I felt a pain

Take hold of me, I was so fain—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

To Lear: “Honneur aux fils des preux!”

Right in my ears again, and shew

The gillyflower blossomed new.

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

The Sieur Guillaume against me came,

His tabard bore three points of flame

From a red heart: with little blame—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

Our tough spears crackled up like straw;

He was the first to turn and draw

His sword, that had no speck nor flaw,—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

But I felt weaker than a maid,

And my brain, dizzied and afraid,

Within my helm a fierce tune play’d,—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

Until I thought of your dear head,

Bowed to the gillyflower bed,

The yellow flowers stained with red;—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

Crash! how the swords met, “giroflée!”

The fierce tune in my helm would play,

“La belle! la belle jaune giroflée!”

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

Once more the great swords met again,

“La belle! la belle!” but who fell then?

Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten;—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

And as, with mazed and unarmed face,

Toward my own crown and the Queen’s place

They led me at a gentle pace,—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.

I almost saw your quiet head

Bowed o’er the gillyflower bed,

The yellow flowers stained with red,—

Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.