  “We have to-day,” so the poppies said To the west wind softly blowing, “To-day to hold, in our bosom red, The great white tears that the night has shed And the sunbeams warm and glowing.” “We have to-day,” said the lover bold, “To spell out the sweet old story, My heart for thine, and the tale is told— O, be not, sweetheart, so shy and cold, See, the world is filled with glory!” The west wind sighed to the sea that night, “’Tis a thought to give one sorrow, The poppy boasts of her pearls of white, The lover his store of dear delight, But neither whispers to-morrow.” |
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