Classic Poem

I planted her the lilac tree
Upon our wedding day;
But when the time of blossom came
With her dead babe she lay ...
And as I stood beside the bed
The scent of lilac filled the room;
And always when I smell the bloom
I think upon the dead.

He spoke and, speaking, sauntered on,
The young girl by his side:
And then they talked no more of death,
But only of the happy things
That burst their buds and spread their wings
And break in song at Whitsuntide,
That burst to bloom at Whitsuntide
And bring the summer in a breath.

And as they talked the young girl's life
Broke into bloom and song;
And, one with all the happy things
That burst their buds and spread their wings,
Her very blood was singing,
And at her pulses ringing;
Life tingled through her sweet and strong,
From secret sources springing;
And all at once a quickening strife

Of hopes and fears was in her heart
Where only wondering joy had been;
And, kindling with a sudden light,
Her eyes had sight
Of things unseen;
And, in a flash a woman grown,
With pangs of knowledge fierce and keen
She knew strange things unknown.

A year went by. At Whitsuntide
He brought her home, a bride.

He planted her no lilac tree
Upon their wedding day;
And strange distress came over her
As on the bed she lay,
For, as he stood beside the bed,
The scent of lilac filled the room.
Her heart knew well he smelt the bloom
And thought upon the dead.

Yet she was glad to be his wife;
And, when the blossom-time was past,
Her days no more were overcast,
And deep she drank of life;
And thronged with happy household cares
Her busy days went pleasantly;
Her foot was light upon the stairs,
And every room rang merrily
And merrily and merrily
With song and mirth; for unto her
His heart seemed hers, and hers alone,
Until new dreams began to stir
Her wondering breast with bliss unknown
Of some new miracle to be;
And, though she moved more quietly
And seldom sang, yet happily
From happy dawn to happy night
The mother's eyes shone bright.

But as her time drew near
Her heart was filled with fear,
And, when the lilac burst to bloom
And brought the summer in a breath,
A presence seemed to fill the room
And fill her heart with death;
And, as her husband lay asleep
Beside her on the bed,
Into her breast the thought would creep
That he was dreaming of the dead:
And all the mother's heart in her
Was mad with mother-jealousy
Of that sweet-scented lilac tree;
And blind with savage ecstasy
Night after night she lay
Until the blink of day
With staring eyes and wild,
Half-crazy lest the lilac tree
Should come betwixt him and his child.
By day her mother-tenderness
Was turned to brooding bitterness
Whene'er she looked upon the bloom,
And if she slept at all at night
Her heart would waken in affright
To smell the lilac in the gloom;
And when it rained it seemed to her
The fresh keen scent was bitterer,
Though when the blaze of morning came
And flooded all the room
The perfume burned her heart like flame.

As in the dark
One night she lay
A dark thought shot
Through her hot heart,
And from a spark
Of smouldering wrong
Hate burst to fire.
Now quaking cold,
Now quivering hot,
With breath indrawn
Through time untold
She 'waited dawn,
That lagged too long
For her desire.

And, when at last at break of day
Her husband rose and went his way
About his daily toil,
She too arose and dressed,
With frenzy in her breast,
And stole downstairs and took a spade
And digged about the lilac roots
And laid them bare of soil;
Then with a jagged blade
She hacked and slashed the naked roots —
She hacked and slashed with frantic hand
Until the lilac scarce might stand;
And then again the soil she laid
About the bleeding roots —
(It seemed to her the sap ran red
About the writhing roots!)
And yet her heart was eased of strife
Since she had sapped the lilac's life.
And, frenzy-spent, she dropped the knife;
Then dizzily she crept to bed,
And lay all day as one nigh dead.

That night a sudden storm awoke
And struck the slumbering earth to life;
And as the heavens in thunder broke
She lay exulting in the strife
Of flash and peal
And gust and rain;
For now, she thought, the lightning-stroke
Will lay the lilac low,
And he need never know
How I ... and then again
Her heart went cold with dread,
And she remembered that the knife
Still lay beneath the lilac tree ...
A blinding flash,
A lull, a crash,
A rattling peal ...
And suddenly
She felt her senses reel;
And crying out — The knife! The knife!
Her pangs were on her. ...
Dawn was red
When she awoke upon the bed
To life — and knew her babe was dead.
She rose and cried out fearfully —
The lilac tree! The lilac tree!
Then fell back in a swoon.

But when she waked again at noon
And looked upon her sleeping child,
And laid her hand upon its head,
No more the mother's heart was wild,
For hate and fear were dead;
And all her brooding bitterness
Turned into tears of tenderness.
And not a word the father said
About the lilac lying dead.

A week went by, and Whitsuntide
Came round and, as she lay
And looked upon the newborn day,
Her husband lying by her side
Spoke to her very tenderly:
Wife, 'tis again our wedding day,
And we will plant a lilac tree
In memory of the babe that died.

They planted a white lilac tree
Upon their wedding day;
And when the time of blossom came
With kindly hearts they lay.
The sunlight streamed upon the bed;
The scent of lilac filled the room;
And, as they smelt the breathing bloom,
They thought upon the dead.