In the dooryard 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 dooryard, 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 Dooryard Bloomed"
2 Comments
Bethany
5/14/2018 10:49:15 am
Hi Laurie,
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