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1862–1900

Hyacinths.

Thomas Winthrop Hall

Hyacinths, tenderly sweet, Is it life that you ask in your prayer? Ah, I would die at her feet, If I could be one of you there.

There on her billowy breast, So near to her innocent heart, That its beating would lull me to rest, And to dream I should never depart.

Sighing are you for the stars? Look in the depths of her eyes. Is there a gem of the Czar's So much like those gems of the skies?

Is it the dew that you miss? Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait. Soon she will give you a kiss. Oh, how I envy your fate!

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Hyacinths. · Thomas Winthrop Hall · Poetry Cove