
THE LILAC. 
THOMSON. 
SHRUBS there are, 
That at the call of Spring 
Burst forth in blossomed fragrance ; lilacs, robed 
In snow-white innocence or purple pride. 
ee 
THE LILAC. 
THE lilac, various in array—now white, 
Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set 
With purple spikes pyramidal ; as if, 
Studious of ornament, yet unresolved 
Which hues she most approves, she chose them all. 
THE LILAC. 
MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
Litac of Persia ! Tell us some fine tale 
Of Eastern lands ; we’re fond of travelers. 
Have you no legends of some sultan proud, 
Or old fire-worshiper ? What, not one note 
Made on your yoyage? 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 ! 






