The Poetry Corner

The Gilliflower Of Gold

By William Morris

A golden gilliflower to-day I wore upon my helm alway, And won the prize of this tourney. Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. 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 girofle. Although my spear in splinters flew, From John's steel-coat, my eye was true; I wheel'd about, and cried for you, Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. 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 girofle. 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 girofle. 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 girofle. To hear: Honneur aux fils des preux! Right in my ears again, and shew The gilliflower blossom'd new. Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. 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 girofle. Our tough spears crackled up like straw; He was the first to turn and draw His sword, that had nor speck nor flaw; Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. 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 girofle. Until I thought of your dear head, Bow'd to the gilliflower bed, The yellow flowers stain'd with red; Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. Crash! how the swords met: girofle! The fierce tune in my helm would play, La belle! la belle! jaune girofle! Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. 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 girofle. And as with mazed and unarm'd face, Toward my own crown and the Queen's place, They led me at a gentle pace. Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle. I almost saw your quiet head Bow'd o'er the gilliflower bed, The yellow flowers stain'd with red. Hah! hah! la belle jaune girofle.