Under the covered wagon blows, Packed in earth so a tendril grows, The lilac root and the cinnamon rose. Dug from New England's rocky clay, Carried west on a broken way, Cinnamon roses and lilac spray. Purple lilac and cinnamon rose To set in the land of the buffaloes, Planted deep where the Cheyenne flows. Fragrance of summer sweet and clear Blowing east when the night winds veer, The fragrant musk of the long frontier. Over Boston and Plymouth Bay, Over turnpikes that curve and sway, Cinnamon roses and lilac spray. The cities vibrate, the belt line steers, The towers brandish their neon spears, But still, at evening, a trace appears, A fragrant drift where the night wind blows, And I hear the creak of the wagon bows -- Purple lilac and cinnamon rose.