Hyacinthus
Sitting under a willow tree
Gazing across the lake
With lyre in his hand
Grazing fingers through its strings
When a sad melancholy sings
He looks at the sun
With misery filled heart
He sits where Hyacinth grows
Slung to his back are arrows and bow
His eyes filled with tears
And voice full of despair
He sings for Hyacinthus
Fantastic.
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