Love-lies-bleeding.... Deserted Love.
Reading edition
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. Percival.
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.
Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears. Byron.