Hyacinth
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.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay
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2 comments:
The hyacinths are beautiful! I have some sleeping in my perennial bed out front...they are probably 15 years old now...my friend Gloria rescued them when the Smithsonian landscaping crew were doing their annual "dig up the Spring bulbs and throw them out" routine. About the man in the poem my mother would have said "not good husband material.
I've really enjoyed watching the process as they open up, Cat. I tried planting them one year in Indiana, but the squirrels worked right behind me digging them up! Your mother's line is priceless.
Kind regards,
Dana
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