August 14th, 2008

poetry, exceptindreams

270: Hyacinth

“Hyacinth”
Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am in love with him
To whom a hyacinth is dearer
Than I shall ever be dear.

On nights when the field-mice
Are abroad, he cannot sleep.
He hears their narrow teeth
At the bulbs of his hyacinths.

But the gnawing at my heart
He does not hear.