Come, evening gale! the crimsonne rose Is drooping for thy sighe of dewe; The hyacinthe wooes thy kisse to close In slumberre sweete its eye of blue. George CrolyInscription for a Grotto.
If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft, And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left, Sell one, and with the dole Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul. Mosleh Eddin SaadiGulistan. (Garden of Roses.)
And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue, Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew Of music so delicate, soft, and intense, It was felt like an odour within the sense. ShelleyThe Sensitive Plant. Pt. I.