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Hyacinth

By 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.

Submitted By timeless
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Hyacinth , Love Poems

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