Gay was the love of paradise he drew
And pictured in his fancy; he did dwell
Upon it till it had a life; he threw
A tint of heaven athwart it—who can tell
The yearnings of his heart, the charm, the spell,
That bound him to that vision?
Percival.
Love-lies-bleeding.... Deserted Love.
This beautiful emblem of love, wounded and bereaved by fate, is a species of Amaranthus. The flower is of a reddish-purple hue, which circumstance suggests its name.
A single rose is shedding
Its lovely lustre meek and pale:
It looks as planted by despair—
So white, so faint—the slightest gale
Might whirl the leaves on high.
Byron.
And on with many a step of pain,
Our weary race is sadly run;
And still, as on we plod our way,
We find, as life’s gay dreams depart,
To close our being’s troubled day,
Naught left us but a broken heart.
Nor would I change my buried love
For any heart of living mould,
No—for I am a hero’s child—
I’ll hunt my quarry in the wild;
And still my home this mansion make,
Of all unheeded and unheeding,
And cherish, for my warrior’s sake,
The flower of Love-lies-bleeding.
Campbell.