Do I know where the lilacs grow?
Beneath the shade of long shadows,
Where twists of limp limbs intertwine,
Red birds sing on the edge of time,
“Child, child always mine,”
Soft and sweet a lullaby.
Eyes turned to a flowering sky,
“Mother, mother watch me fly.”
Do I know where the red birds go?
When earth is soft in downy snow,
Wait for the vines to green and climb,
There they’ll land in the ebbing tide.