When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,
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...
Those are just the opening lines to the lengthy poem by Mr. Whitman who wrote these words just after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln in the spring of 1865.
Even now when I see lilacs I think of Mr. Whitman and Mr. Lincoln. This is a flower that fills my heart.