Amaranth.... Immortality.
Reading edition
The Amaranth is unfading; and it has, therefore, been made the emblem of immortality. In Homer’s time, it was customary to wear crowns of Amaranth at the funerals of distinguished personages. Milton, in his Lycidas, classes it among the flowers that “sad embroidery wear.” In the floral games at Toulouse, the principal prize was a golden Amaranth for the best lyric composition. The Amaranthus hypochondriacus, one of the American species, is better known by the name of Prince’s Feather.
There’s a yearning that’s felt in your heart’s deepest cell, And silently, vainly, within doth it swell; And, scorning the hopes of the children of earth, Seeks the bright home of its heavenly birth; And that yearning, unquenched in the heart will lie, Till refreshed by a draught from eternity. Miss Larcom.
Oh, listen man! A voice within us speaks that startling word, “Man, thou shalt never die!” Celestial voices Hymn it unto our souls: according harps, By angel fingers touched, when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The song of our great immortality. Dana.
Immortal Amaranth! a flower which once In paradise, fast by the tree of life Began to bloom; but soon, for man’s offence, To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows And flowers aloft, shading the tree of life. Milton.
There are distinctions that will live in heaven, When time is a forgotten circumstance! The elevated brow of kings will lose The impress of regalia, and the slave Will wear his immortality as free Beside the crystal waters; but the depth Of glory in the attributes of God Will measure the capacities of mind; And, as the angels differ, will the ken Of gifted spirits glorify Him more. Willis.
Were death annihilation—were this life A lamp extinguished, ne’er to be relit,— Then words of deep despondency were fit; Then man perchance might lift his arm in strife Against his Lord. Were blessedness of mind Dependent on the vastness of the heap Of gold and gems the schemers ’mong mankind Could gather—then ’twere virtuous to weep. But ’tis not so. Infinity of time Is yet to be. Beyond our vision lie Eternal realms, ineffably sublime And beautiful. MacKellar.