Think you’ve got your head wrapped around When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd? Put your knowledge to
the test. Good luck — the Stickman is counting on you!
Q. In the swamp in secluded recesses
A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song
the lilacs grow
is the thought of him I love
the landscape listens
Q. For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a song for you
Despair
the one I love
O sane and sacred death
hermit bird
Q. Coffin that passes through lanes and streets,
Through day and night with the great cloud darkening the land
from the light
when lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd
and thought of him I love
Q. Dark mother
approach strong deliveress
always gliding near with soft feet
Laved in the flood of thy bliss
in her loving and floating ocean
Q. Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side of me,
on Winter Afternoons
while the hermit bird warbles his song
And the thought of death close-walking the other side of me,
To the solemn shadowy cedars and ghostly pines so still.