Lilacs have an advantage over many ornamental shrubs in being extremely tough, adaptable and undemanding.

Lilac is not a native to North America, but international horticulturists agree that the lilac grows to a height of perfection in Canada and the northern United States, making a more impressive flowering shrub in our gardens than the gardens of Europe or any other part of the world.

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Spring is definitely coming. I can see closed buds on my own lilac tree.
Very soon we can inhale the lilac's intoxicating fragrance.

***********

Upon a Lilac Sea - a poem by Emily Dickinson




Upon a Lilac Sea
To toss incessantly
His Plush Alarm
Who fleeing from the Spring
The Spring avenging fling
To Dooms of Balm

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Warble for Lilac-Time
By Walt Whitman
1819-1892



Warble me now for joy of lilac-time, (returning in reminiscence,)
Sort me O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of earliest summer,
Gather the welcome signs, (as children with pebbles or stringing shells,)
Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds, the elastic air,
Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes,
Blue-bird and darting swallow, nor forget the high-hole flashing his
golden wings,
The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor,
Shimmer of waters with fish in them, the cerulean above,
All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running,
The maple woods, the crisp February days and the sugar-making,
The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted,
With musical clear call at sunrise, and again at sunset,
Or flitting among the trees of the apple-orchard, building the nest
of his mate,
The melted snow of March, the willow sending forth its yellow-green sprouts,
For spring-time is here! the summer is here! and what is this in it
and from it?
Thou, soul, unloosen'd--the restlessness after I know not what;
Come, let us lag here no longer, let us be up and away!
O if one could but fly like a bird!
O to escape, to sail forth as in a ship!
To glide with thee O soul, o'er all, in all, as a ship o'er the waters;
Gathering these hints, the preludes, the blue sky, the grass, the
morning drops of dew,
The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark green heart-shaped leaves,
Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence,
Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere,
To grace the bush I love--to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of returning in reminiscence

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Thank you dear Inda, for this wonderful presentation of Lilacs, which is one of my favorite flowers. And first on the list of scents! Simply divine!

We had them in our garden in Switzerland and I so loved to stand under the bush, getting drunk by that wonderful scent. In German this flower is called FLIEDER.

Love and have a Happy Sunday!
Margherita Smile

Thank you everyone for your nice replies and images.

Love, Inda
**********



Emily Dickinson

- The Lilac is an ancient shrub

The Lilac is an ancient shrub
But ancienter than that
The Firmamental Lilac
Upon the Hill tonight --
The Sun subsiding on his Course
Bequeaths this final Plant
To Contemplation -- not to Touch --
The Flower of Occident.
Of one Corolla is the West --
The Calyx is the Earth --
The Capsules burnished Seeds the Stars
The Scientist of Faith
His research has but just begun --
Above his synthesis
The Flora unimpeachable
To Time's Analysis --
"Eye hath not seen" may possibly
Be current with the Blind
But let not Revelation
By theses be detained --

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Thank you Sylvie.

The lilacs will soon be blooming.
Enjoy them.

Love, Inda
***********

From:



Poetry of Walt Whitman


} When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd

1
When lilacs last in the dooryard 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.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.

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Thank you Sandy.
Lovely to see you.

O Were My Love Yon Lilac Fair
Robert Burns

Air-"Hughie Graham."

O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa';
And I myself a drap o' dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa'!
O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light!

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This is a lovely thread.
Thank you everyone for your text and images.

Love,
Sue Cat Cat2


Lilac Garden
Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time;
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)
And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer's wonderland;
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from London!)

From 'The Barrel-Organ' by Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)

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HAIKU

Terry Busch



the moon's reflection
dances out on Skagit Bay---
movement in stillness

in black and white
a gallery for the starving
we walk thru quickly

a daffodil
in my shadowed garden---
your smile in my life

unseen
snowflakes whisper
to the lilac

waking to moonlight
I tend a sagebrush fire
waiting on coffee


http://www.poetrylives.com/SimplyHaiku/SHv3n3/haiku/terry_busch.html

Carmina Burana c. 1150 A.D.

Juliana by the Greenwood Tree

One sweet spring Juliana
stood under the greenwood tree
in the company of the sister
Sweet love!

Who could pass you by at such a time!

The trees blossom now
and the birds lasciviously sing,
virgins' pure thoughts take flight,
Sweet love!

The lilacs bloom again
and the maidens in the vale
sing of the high god's power
Sweet love!

Could I embrace the one I love,
and underneath the forest's leaves
I would kiss her with such pleasure,
Sweet love!

Y. Chuikov

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I see the buds on the lilac trees.
It will be lovely when they open, as they will fill the air with their magnificent scent.



When lilacs last in the dooryard 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.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love...

Walt Whitman

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You are right yoko, there is definitely a wonderful scent of lilacs in the air.

Love,
Vicky 2Hearts


Lilacsby Amy Lowell

Amy Lowell
Lilacs,
False blue,
White,
Purple,
Color of lilac,
Your great puffs of flowers
Are everywhere in this my New England.
Among your heart-shaped leaves
Orange orioles hop like music-box birds and sing
Their little weak soft songs;
In the crooks of your branches
The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted eggs
Peer restlessly through the light and shadow
Of all Springs...




You are right yoko, the lilacs have buds and they are beginning to emit a beautiful scent. Let us enjoy them while they last, because they only stay with us for a short time.

Love, Inda
**********

“The lilac branches are bowed under the weight of the flowers: blooming is hard, and the most important thing is - to bloom.
― Yevgeny Zamyatin

http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/lilac?id=lilac

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Thank you yoko for bringing back this topic.

When Lilacs Welcome
When lilac buds have burst to bloom
On hills and valleys of Spokane,
When larks are trilling roundelays
More sweet than fabled notes of Pan,


The River rushes joyously,
The tumbling Falls lift rainbow spray
in welcome to each visitor
and native son, for festal day.


The Queen of Spring holds Royal Court,
When lilac fragrance fills the air;
Our chosen Princess brings her throng
Of maidens -- fairest of the fair:


A Theme of Beauty and of Home --
No sweeter song the heart can sing! --
No other song can quite compare:
SPOKANE -- and LILACS -- in the Spring!
-- Jessie Cameron Alison

http://writingnorthidaho.blogs...from-lilac-poet.html

Lilac buds are already to open up which means that spring is really here.

...The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark green heart-shaped leaves,
Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence,
Samples and sorts not for themselves alone, but for their atmosphere,
To grace the bush I love—to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of lilac-time, returning in reminiscence.

Walt Whitman

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Margherita
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