Ballade De Marguerite Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: A BB CC AA AA DD EF AA EE AA GF HH II EE FE JJ KK EE LL EE MM A AA EE| NORMANDE | A |
| - | |
| I AM weary of lying within the chase | B |
| When the knights are meeting in market place | B |
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| Nay go not thou to the red roofed town | C |
| Lest the hooves of the war horse tread thee down | C |
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| But I would not go where the Squires ride | A |
| I would only walk by my Lady's side | A |
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| Alack and alack thou art over bold | A |
| A Forester's son may not eat off gold | A |
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| Will she love me the less that my Father is seen | D |
| Each Martinmas day in a doublet green | D |
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| Perchance she is sewing at tapestrie | E |
| Spindle and loom are not meet for thee | F |
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| Ah if she is working the arras bright | A |
| I might ravel the threads by the fire light | A |
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| Perchance she is hunting of the deer | E |
| How could you follow o'er hill and meer | E |
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| Ah if she is riding with the court | A |
| I might run beside her and wind the morte | A |
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| Perchance she is kneeling in S Denys | G |
| On her soul may our Lady have gramercy | F |
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| Ah if she is praying in lone chapelle | H |
| I might swing the censer and ring the bell | H |
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| Come in my son for you look sae pale | I |
| The father shall fill thee a stoup of ale | I |
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| But who are these knights in bright array | E |
| Is it a pageant the rich folks play | E |
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| 'Tis the King of England from over sea | F |
| Who has come unto visit our fair countrie | E |
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| But why does the curfew toll sae low | J |
| And why do the mourners walk a row | J |
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| O 'tis Hugh of Amiens my sister's son | K |
| Who is lying stark for his day is done | K |
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| Nay nay for I see white lilies clear | E |
| It is no strong man who lies on the bier | E |
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| O 'tis old Dame Jeannette that kept the hall | L |
| I knew she would die at the autumn fall | L |
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| Dame Jeannette had not that gold brown hair | E |
| Old Jeannette was not a maiden fair | E |
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| O 'tis none of our kith and none of our kin | M |
| Her soul may our Lady assoil from sin | M |
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| But I hear the boy's voice chaunting sweet | A |
| 'Elle est morte la Marguerite ' | - |
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| Come in my son and lie on the bed | A |
| And let the dead folk bury their dead | A |
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| O mother you know I loved her true | E |
| O mother hath one grave room for two | E |
Oscar Wilde
(1)
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