WHEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;
Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.
[And I am not a fan of Lincoln, to say the least, but Whitman's words ALWAYS come to mind when the lilacs are in full bloom...]
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