THAT melancholy Amaranth;
     It haunts me all the day,
With memories of "my birdie love,"
     Now "flying," far away.
"Where is 'my precious baby' gone?"
     Rings out, on all the air;
And stillness stuns my ear, the while;
     Till echo answers "where?"

My Lizzie "birdie" nestles, now,
     Upon the sounding shore;
Yet, still, her flute-notes sweet, I hear,
     Through all the breakers' roar:
And, when she spreads her dovelike wings,
     The foaming surge, to brave:
With plumes, like "yellow gold," she seems
     An angel on the wave.

That melancholy Amaranth,
     With pendant, purple flowers,
Like weeping-willow, stands to mark,
     The graves, of parted hours.
Far, far, away, "my birdie love"
     Is "plashing" in the sea;
"My love lies bleeding," all that's left,
     To solitude and me.

August 15, 1856.

* The common name, for the flower, known to botanists, as "Amaranthus Melancholicus;" a favourite flower of the little grand-child, to whom these lines were written. The words in quotation, m these two pieces, are the baby language that they used together.

Project Canterbury