Here sleeps, O passer, Hyacinth the Lord Of Maugiron, dead, gone, at rest; May God absolve and keep him near his breast; Fallen to earth, he lies in holy sward. None -- even Quelus -- wore the pearly cord, The plumed cap, or ruff more meetly prest, Behold by a new Myron well exprest A spray of hyacinth in marble scored. And having kissed him and most tenderly Placed him in coffin, Henry willed that he At Saint-Germain be laid; -- fair, wan, he lies. And wishing that such grief should never die, He made in church, all changes to defy. This sweet, sad symbol of Apollo's sighs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KEEPING UP WITH THE SIGNS by MADELINE DEFREES EVENING IN A SUGAR ORCHARD by ROBERT FROST DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: ALMA BELL TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |