A SONG OF POPPIES

I love red poppies! Imperial red poppies!

Sun-worshippers are they;

Gladly as trees live through a hundred summers

They live one little day.

I love red poppies! Impassioned scarlet poppies!

Ever their strange perfume

Seems like an essence brewed by fairy people

From an immortal bloom.

I love red poppies! Red, silken, swaying poppies!

Deep in their hearts they keep

A magic cure for woe — a draught of Lethe —

A lotus-gift of sleep.

I love red poppies! Soft silver-stemmed, red poppies,

That from the rain and sun

Gather a balm to heal some earth-born sorrow,

When their glad day is done.