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 pointed¹ 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.