I ALWAYS think of mother, when <br />The lilac tree's in bloom, <br />It seems her soul comes back again <br />Upon its sweet perfume. <br />And every opal spire that sways <br />Out in the summer sun <br />Brings back the good old golden days <br />Before her work was done. <br /> <br />'T was there her smile seemed sweetest, and <br />'T was there her eyes were brightest, <br />'T was there that gentlest was her hand, <br />And there her heart was lightest. <br />And now when blooms the lilac tree <br />I feel that she is near me, <br />Come back again the flowers to see, <br />To comfort and to cheer me. <br /> <br />All mothers love a lilac tree, <br />And that is why I love it; <br />The blossoms know, it seems to me, <br />That angels bend above it. <br />And when the blooms return again <br />My skies become the clearest, <br />Because I seem to feel just then <br />That mother, dear, is nearest.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lilacs-3/
