And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring...
Comrades mine, and I in the midst, and their memory ever I
keep—for the dead I loved so well;
For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands...and this for
his dear sake;
Lilac and star and bird, twined with the chant of my soul,
There in the fragrant pines, and the cedars dusk and dim."
- from "When Lilacs Last In The Dooryard Bloomed" by Walt Whitman