Walt Whitman opens the mind to the beauty of his words, makes one realize the love within, a man of many who dared.
“Lilacs such beauty of the spring
hold them close
and smell their scent
lilacs come sweet lilacs
for I remember thee”
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’
O powerful western star, fallen star!
O shades of night! O moody, tearful night!
O great star disappear’d! O the black murk that hides the star!
O cruel hands that hold me powerless! O helpless soul of me!
O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul!
In the door-yard fronting an old far-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 its delicate-color’d blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green,
A sprig with its flower, I break.