Explore "Hyacinth" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.