Hyacinthus and Apollo VI

I know that we will meet again my dear,
Sweet Hyacinthus. I will sing a song
Forever, and the world will lend an ear;
To hear how Fate has done a fellow wrong.
   They'll hear I taught you every skill and art;
   Your favorite, which you had surpassed me in,
   Was music. And your singing was the start,
   The cycle of your songs the springtime's din.
Those songs resound no longer. You are dead,
And only I am left to turn the wheel.
It wasn't fair, I need you, but the tread
Of overwriting time brings death to heel.
   Myth shall restore you in your season then;
   To Hyperborea we'll go again.