Pines she like to the hyacinth out on the path by the hill top;
Shepherds tread it aside, and its purples lie lost on the herbage.
Edwin Arnold, 1869.
One Girl.
(A combination from Sappho.)
I.
Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough,
A-top on the topmost twig,—which the pluckers forgot, somehow,—
Forgot it not, nay, but got it not, for none could get it till now.
II.