Walt Whitman on Flowers
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“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.”
“With every leaf a miracle … and from this bush in the door-yard, With delicate-colour'd blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green A sprig, with its flower, I break.”