I don’t know if you know about
What jonquils are or daffodils,
But they grow all around about
In springtime alongside of rills
And ponds. It is the flower that
A legend has grown up around
Which yesterday, in looking at,
A lesson’s in that I have found.
They say a mother bore a lad
Who was so beautiful to see
It made her glad but also sad—
She pondered his mortality.
The mother asked some oracle
On life allotted her young son;
The answer was, “He’ll live until
He knows himself to be undone.”
Narcissus was the baby’s name,
For whatsoever it had meant,
The daffodil might be the same—
He wasn’t named by accident.
But anyway what happened that
The boy grew till he was sixteen
Astonishing those who looked at
Him loving what it is they’d seen.
That wasn’t all that good for him
Because he’d rather stay alone,
To shun by some eccentric whim
Attention to him he was shown.
So, knowing of Narcissus now,
Disdaining love of others who
Desired him, you could see how
Before a forest pool he’d view
Himself, upon a surface where
The only face he saw was his;
Although the boy was unaware
That anything could be amiss.
Yet fallen in love with the dim
Reflection in the forest pond,
While failing to see it was him,
Narcissus became overfond.
With unrequited love he pined
Away, for longing for a face
That as his own he couldn’t find
Amenable for his embrace.
Although himself he didn’t know
By seeing what he never knew,
That whatsoever it should show
It made him wonder over who
This lovely girl he saw could be,
Albeit she could not respond:
“Why is it you won’t answer me?”
He asked an image in a pond.
Dissolving for the tears he shed
Upon the image that he saw,
Narcissus, fearing that she fled,
Deceived by a deceptive flaw,
He pined away and disappeared
But left the jonquil in his place;
The water of his shadow cleared
Of the boy’s unreflective face;
For, shadows really never make
A difference to people who look
Unless they’d happen to mistake
Them for whatever they mistook.
Greek Myth (Origin of Narcissism)
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