Amaranth

The immortal flower

Amaranth

Here, twixt the briar, bone and bare

But for the crescent scythes so dry

With empty lust for sanguine fare--

And twixt the frosted lily rare,

A feathered crystal dropped from high

Whose glacial heart is glamor's err--

The amaranth in hostile chair

Lies scored and shadowed in its lie

Of balm and absence of despair.

Yet this same flower growing there

Is the undying bloom that sky-

Enthroned immortals fain would share.

Not violet's dawn nor thistle's flare

Nor fleeting rose nor iris shy

Could hope for chance to well compare

To amaranth, a blossom fair

Enough to rest in Beauty's eye,

Immortal floret solitaire--

My amaranth, my shining prayer.