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!
Even 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.