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The Spike: or, Victoria College Review, June 1909

White Hyacinths

White Hyacinths

"If I had but two loaves of bread, I would sell one of them and buy whate hyacinths to feed my soul."

A flower, through the glimmering even-tide,
Shines shadow-pale, and what the bees have spared
Of all her fragrance, to the night has bared,
Spreading her beauty on the dimness wide.
Down from the circling heavens the night mists slide
To woo the tender violets that have dared
To peer forth from the covert. Forth have fared
The lissome moths; a lonely owl has cried.

Come down the rustling path with silent feet—
Stoop where the wind has stooped, and what he stole
Snatch from his fading pinions— all the sweet
Of all the spring and summer in one whole.
Here have I planted them, my heart to greet—
All these— white hyacinths to feed my soul.