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