| In the door-yard fronting an old farm-house, near the white-wash’d palings, | |
| Stands the lilac bush, tall-growing, with heart-shaped leaves of rich green, | |
| With many a pointed blossom, rising, delicate, with the perfume strong I love, | |
| With every leaf a miracle......and from this bush in the door-yard, | 15 |
| With delicate-color’d blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green, | |
| A sprig, with its flower, I break. - Walt Whitman, When Lilacs Last in the Door-yard Bloom'd | | |
The
Purple Lilacs are Plentiful and Positively Perfect, but I am looking forward to the
White Lilacs blooming, too.
