For the love of Hyacinthus

Apollo,
Longing for the love of Spartan's youth,
In a field of green hues where no flowers grew,
Lay his loves wounded body.
From out his pale, still and lifeless chest,
Sprang forth the loveliest of flowers.
A site so beautiful, the gods were moved to tears.
Bending down, Apollo caressed his lovers cheek,
His tears mixed with mortals blood--
More of these flowers thrived in his embrace.
Convinced these adduces were created by the love they shared,
He named the flower Hyacinth, after his beloved.