Sunday, April 10, 2011

when lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd

"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,
with delicate-color’d blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
a sprig, with its flower, I break"...walt whitman

in doing garden research for the mary louise booth house on long island, i found that lilacs were popular and planted to commemorate abraham lincoln's death as poet walt whitman celebrates in this excerpt...a very fitting description of my house and its lilac stand as well as at other historic 19th century houses along main street in this small town....

3 comments:

  1. Love this poem my mother taught me:

    Oh, to have a little house,
    To own the hearth and stool and all!
    The heaped up sods upon the fire,
    The pile of turf against the wall!

    To have a clock with weights and chains
    And pendulum swinging up and down!
    A dresser filled with shining delph,
    Speckled and white and blue and brown!

    I could be busy all the day
    Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,
    And fixing on their shelf again
    My white and blue and speckled store.

    I could be quiet there at night
    Beside the fire and by myself,
    Sure of a bed and loth to leave
    The ticking clock and the shining delph!

    Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,
    And roads where there's never a house nor bush,
    And tired I am of bog and road,
    And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

    And I am praying to God on high,
    And I am praying Him night and day,
    For a little house—a house of my own—
    Out of the wind's and the rain's way.

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