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.
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Comments about this poem (A Song Of Poppies by Virna Sheard )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 January 1887 – 20 January 1962)
- Jennifer Gordon
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(1886 - 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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