Where Lilacs Grow

Beyond the furthest mountain peak,
where rivers gently flow,
where balmy breezes stir the air,
and hallowed bliss is everywhere,
there lies the place the heartsick seek
to end their woe.
The splendour drives away despair
and makes assertive of the meek.
More teachings than through sages flow
in the land where lilacs grow.

No winters ever discharge their chill,
and no clouds ever cross the sky.
No perils lurk to stain with dread
the land to which the dying head
in want to have one final thrill
before they die.
Beneath the lilacs lie the dead–
a promise that, should times grow ill,
in death we’ll meet, in death we’ll go
to the land where lilacs grow.