The lilacs are early (what isn't) this spring (that wasn't). But I'll take lilacs anytime. Especially in an elegant vase by my friend Frances Palmer. This is one of my favorites; it has a maternal rotundity, and makes me think of a woman with her hands on her hips. So I will give T.S. Eliot the last word on lilacs. From Prufrock and Other Observations...Portrait of a Lady:

Now that lilacs are in bloom
She has a bowl of lilacs in her room
And twists one in her fingers while she talks.
“Ah, my friend, you do not know, you do not know
What life is, you who hold it in your hands”;
(Slowly twisting the lilac stalks)
“You let it flow from you, you let it flow,
And youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And smiles at situations which it cannot see.”
I smile, of course,
And go on drinking tea.

No comments: