Saxifraga Pyramidalis

I bloom but once, and then I perish;
This plume of snow
No sun or soft south wind will cherish —
'Tis drooping now.

Black streams beneath me foam and thunder;
Their icy breath,
There where the rocks are rent asunder,
Woos me with death.

Still like a fair imperial streamer
I float and flaunt;
I am no light luxurious dreamer,
Whom dangers daunt.

For me no delicate life-lover
Will dare to bow;
My pyramid of bloom shall cover
No craven's brow.

But should some youth on whom the splendour
Of hope is high,
Who loves with love superb and tender
What cannot die,

Pass by this dark and awful dwelling,
He shall not shrink
From slippery rock or sick waves swelling
To the black brink;

But stoop and pluck the song I utter
Of death and joy:
Yea, my free plume of snow shall flutter
To greet the boy.