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Updated: June 14, 2025
I only wanted to tell you that that little lilac-bush is my child." "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the branches. "Do you think an old black root like you can get such a sweet little child as that? It's prettier and fresher and greener than you can imagine." "It's my child for all that," said the root, proudly.
But one year this very last year, children the lilac-bush grew tired of being good and working hard; and the more it thought about it, the sadder and sorrier and more discouraged it grew.
The yellow-bird, too, had four fuzzy little babies in her nest in the lilac-bush, and every now and then she came to sing to the little boy and Fido of her darlings. Then, when the little boy and Fido were tired with play, they would sit in the rowen near the fence-corner and hear the flower tell a story the dew had brought fresh from the stars the night before.
In his vision of it the lilac-bush outside the window always smelled of spring; she always sat there beside the open sash, waiting for him. What wonder that he survived when so many others went down? What wonder that he persevered?
In the shadow of a white lilac-bush, Colonel Musgrave paused with an awed face. "Good Lord!" said he, aghast at the notion; "what would Agatha say if she knew I had been fighting like a drunken truck-driver! Or, rather, what would she refrain from saying! Only, she wouldn't believe it of me.
Nobody could understand how, as she had kept her eyes firmly shut. No greater accident had occurred than the singeing of the tip of Solomon John's nose. But there was an unpleasant and terrible odor from the "fulminating paste." Mrs. Peterkin was extricated from the lilac-bush. No one knew how she got there. Indeed, the thundering noise had stunned everybody.
Miss Jane had requested Salome to gather the seeds of some apple and nutmeg geraniums that were arranged on a shelf near the western window of the library; and, while stooping over the china jars, and screened from observation by a spreading lilac-bush, the girl had heard the conversation relative to herself.
Peterkin had just reached the closing words: "Our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." "We are all blown up, as I feared we should be," Mrs. Peterkin at length ventured to say, finding herself in a lilac-bush by the side of the piazza. She scarcely dared to open her eyes to see the scattered limbs about her. It was so with all.
"He seemed to be in a garden, at the foot of a lilac-bush." Mother Michel instantly ran to the garden, where, as you may imagine, she did not find Moumouth. During the whole day Lustucru amused himself by giving her false exultations, which were followed by increased despondency. "Mother Michel," said he, "just now, in passing the store-room, I thought I heard a kind of meyowing."
Six or eight weeks ago Hester and her mother went out one morning to see the lilac-bush. "It does n't look at all as it ought," said Hester, shaking her head sadly. "The buds are very few, and they are all shrunken. See how limp and flabby the stems of the leaves look!" "Perhaps it is dead," said Hester's mother, "or perhaps it is too old to bloom." "I like that!" thought the lilac-bush.
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