In a garden where ancient whispers sigh,
Blooms a flower with distant, gentle light,
A spotless lily, noble in its grace,
Echo of eras when the herald’s might prevailed.
Its ivory heart, as pure as fallen snow,
Sings the saga of a people in grand parade,
From royal lilies to Quebec’s flowing streams,
It rises proudly, to the beat of enduring laws.
Beneath America’s vast and open skies,
It evokes France in verses soft and bright,
A woven thread linking two distant lands,
Where heritage waltzes with the living now.
O fleur-de-lys, awaken our memories,
Within you sleeps a spark of timeless hope,
A living emblem, tender and aglow,
You blossom eternal in the heavens’ heart.
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