Poems (Gould, 1833)/The Lost Hyacinth
THE LOST HYACINTH.
My hyacinth, my hyacinth At length has come to light!And round the stalk and purple buds The leaves are green and bright!
Renewed in beauty it has broke From out the crumbling earth;And, when I thought it dead and gone, It has another birth!
My hyacinth! my hyacinth! At last I've found thee out.Oh! where hast thou been hid so long? What hast thou been about?
'I 've been,' the little hermit said, 'Within my lowly cell;And joy I've had in quiet there, That tongue can never tell.
'In sweet communion with the power To which alone I trust,I 've worshipped long at nature's shrine, Abased below the dust.
'This upper world I find a scene Of peril, change and strife.And from seclusion I must draw My sweetest draught of life.
'I would not live, if ever thus, Uncovered to the glareOf yonder sun, I must be brushed By ev'ry vagrant air.
' 'T is best for me, and best for thee That I should pass from sight,To be a while in loneliness, And hidden from the light.
'For I should lose my greatest worth By being always here;Thou would'st not feel the joy thou hast To see me re-appear.
'From calm and humble solitude My first attractions flow,And, but for these, I were but poor, Without a charm to show.
'But I've come back to stand awhile In beauty to thine eye;And when my flowers have gladdened thee, They 'll be content to die.
'And, while thy hyacinth her sweets Shall pour from every bell,Remember she her fragrance gained Within the lowly cell!'