The Lilac Girl

From boards, a broken box, a shelf,
She made her homemade hideaway
Where she would watch the spiders weave
Their webs, and wear away the day.
There were no heartaches for herself
In her new home among the lilac leaves.

Within the foliage, she had hid
A doll adorned in wedding white,
A battered book in which she’d weave
A child’s dream, some coins, a kite,
A treasure chest without a lid –
She laid these there among her lilac leaves.

Too soon, too soon, the days decayed
From bird-sung spring to autumn time;
Her youth, which wonder weaved
And waxed tremendous and sublime,
Began to wane away. She played
No more among the fading lilac leaves.

The sun set coldly through the clouds,
And summer ceased—she came no more:
No more she watched the spiders weave
Nor kept her prizes as before.
Her doll in weather-beaten shrouds
Laid brokenhearted in the lilac leaves.

Yet every day I pass that way
With hopes to see her still, her book
In hand, and listen while she weaves
Her girlish schemes that came and took
Her far—so very far away—
Beyond her home among the lilac leaves.