Hyacinths

I took three hyacinth bulbs,
And put each one in a pot.
Now this...I know is pink,
It's the choice one of the lot.

No...this one is yellow,
And this one is blue.
But the truth of each bulb,
Was told when it grew.

Now the yellow one came,
Like a flash of pure light.
And the sight of it there,
Was a perfect delight.

The blue-one was darker,
And some how...I knew.
It was the pride of all nature,
With its elegant hue.

And the one still remaining,
T'was a surprise...you may think.
But tucked deep...down under,
Were traces of pink.


E.P. 1908 - 1989