LILAC. 
227 
THE LILAC. 
MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
Lilac of Persia ! Tell us some fine tale 
Of Eastern lands ; we’re fond of travellers. 
Have you no legends of some sultan proud, 
Or old fire-worshipper ? What not one note 
Made on your voyage ? Well, ’tis wondrous strange 
That you should let so rare a chance pass by, 
While those who never journeyed half so far 
Fill sundry volumes, and expect the world 
To reverently peruse and magnify 
What it well knew before ! 
THE LILAC. 
BURNS. 
Oh, were my love yon lilac fair 
Wi’ purple blossoms in the spring; 
And I a bird to shelter there, 
When wearied on my little wing. 
How wad I mourn when it was torn 
By autumn wild and winter rude ! 
But I wad sing on wanton wing, 
When youthfu’ May its bloom renewed. 
