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Bronach

From My Grandmother’s book

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This is not a poem I have written. This is from a book I inherited from my Great-Great Grandmother. It formerly belonged to her father, who was born in Monmouthshire, Wales and immigrated to the United States in 1848.
The book is called The Language and Poetry of Flowers. I felt the urge to share it because I have found magic here. I hope you enjoy it as well! 
 

 

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I like "And honeysuckles full of clear bee-wine."  The neighbour has a huge Honeysuckle on their garage, it is beautiful, and has the largest flowers I have ever seen on a Honeysuckle plant.  Sometime I sneak a couple of the blossoms.

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The second part makes me wonder ... I know lilacs were traditionally planted over buried babies that passed away. Sometimes small rows of them next to country homes make me sad, since I learned of it. I wonder if that bit about "the lonley infant" is implying that honeysuckles were used the same way?? 

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