Harboring Hyacinths Fist-thick cobs could well Collapse under the weight Of their fragrant muscle; Curdled pink and purple Pestles that split the tender Lip of bulbs, and, in one Thrust, choked, swallowed And sweetened air. Now Embolden, become near- Perennial squatters by the Bay window; daylong Appeal to smell mostly With a raw, unremitting Redolence as if they knew The sense most easily seduced And addicted to their presence And so overlook their sins of Excess and untimely hope; Would …