Beauty, thou orchid of immortal bloom,

Sprung from the fire and dust of perished spheres,

How art thou tall in these autumnal years

With the red rain of immemorial doom,

And fragrant where but lesser suns illume,

For sustenance of Life’s forgotten tears!

Ever thy splendour and thy light appears

Like dawn from out the midnight of the tomb.

Colours, and gleams, and glamours unrecalled,

Richly thy petals intricate revive:

Blossom, whose roots are in Eternity,

The faithful soul, the sentience darkly thralled,

In dream and wonder evermore shall strive

At Edens lost of time and memory.