Hyacinth is an aging, faded woman — gray hair, pale skin, thin hands — sitting motionless in a garden arbour, lost in thought or sleep. A cat creeps into her lap, but she barely stirs. The speaker watches her and wonders what she is dreaming, repeating the question as if no one can know. Her dreams seem to be about life itself, imagined as a panther lurking in the shadows: powerful, sudden, and dangerous. The speaker calls to her to wake, warning that life could spring at her with a wild surprise. The mood is hushed and dreamlike, but with unease underneath. Tenderness, pity, and a little fear mix together. Hyacinth remains fragile and distant, caught between stillness and the threat of being startled back into vitality.
Hyacinth — Summary
Hyacinth dreams in the arbour ... Just a crumpled mass of gray ... Soft ashen hair and colourless skin, Small, delicate hands blue-veined and thin ... Hyacinth dreams in the arbour And who shall say What Hyacinth dreams to-day?
Hyacinth dreams in the arbour And the stealthy pussy-cat creeps To her silken lap in the soft green gloom. Room for the pussy-cat, Hyacinth ... room! Hyacinth dreams, in the arbour, Of Life ... that steals and leaps Like a panther out of the shadows ... Hyacinth sleeps.
Hyacinth! Hyacinth! Open your eyes! Your blue blue eyes like the Grecian seas! Or Life will spring on your silken knees And waken you with a wild surprise Where you dream ... just a crumpled mass of gray. Hyacinth dreams in the arbour. Ah who shall say What Hyacinth dreams to-day?