The Century Flower
On topmost point of calcined rocky steeps,
Where the volcanic flux dried up of yore,
The seed which winds from Huallatiri bore
Sprout, and the holding plant in frailness creeps.
It grows. Its roots dip down to darkness' deeps,
And light gives nourishment from out its store,
Till a century's suns have ripened more and more
The huge bud whose bent stalk it proudly keeps.
At last, in air that burns it as of old,
With giant pistil raised, it bursts, when lo!
The stamen darts afar the pollen's gold;
And the grand aloe, with its scarlet blow,
That vainly dreamed of Hymen's love-lit way
One hundred years, now blooms but for a day.
Where the volcanic flux dried up of yore,
The seed which winds from Huallatiri bore
Sprout, and the holding plant in frailness creeps.
It grows. Its roots dip down to darkness' deeps,
And light gives nourishment from out its store,
Till a century's suns have ripened more and more
The huge bud whose bent stalk it proudly keeps.
At last, in air that burns it as of old,
With giant pistil raised, it bursts, when lo!
The stamen darts afar the pollen's gold;
And the grand aloe, with its scarlet blow,
That vainly dreamed of Hymen's love-lit way
One hundred years, now blooms but for a day.
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