She did not leave her portrait framed in gold, Hands always still, her lips sealed in a smile. Canvas and pigment, how could they ever hold Her vivid spirit quiet for a while? She left to me her lilac bush instead, Part of her treasure, nurtured by her hand; Her message in its gallant leaf-crowned head, Proclaiming springtime's march across the land. Her courage calls me in the lilac bush, Richer the bloom the heavier the frost, A fragrance in the folded buds that push Into the path that early winds have crossed. Every spring she talks again with me Of growth that blossoms into victory. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEGIRA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UNCLE JIM'S BAPTIST REVIVAL HYMN by SIDNEY LANIER FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMI GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN TALL GRASS by CARL SANDBURG |