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 spring with its flower I break.