You say this poppy blooms so red Because its roots were daily fed On last year's cold and festering dead? Such is the blessed way of earth; Oblivious, intent on mirth, To turn rank death to gorgeous birth! Even this brutal agony, So hideous, so foul, will be Romance to others, presently. And would it not be proud romance Falling in some obscure advance To rise, a poppy field of France? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER THE RAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN A LECTURE-ROOM by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH ZOLA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MOON-BRIGHT DREAMS by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS MARIE MIGNOT by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM SONNET: 15 by RICHARD BARNFIELD TO ELIZABETH by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE ASOLANDO: THE CARDINAL AND THE DOG by ROBERT BROWNING THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: THE LAST TIME THAT I MET LADY RUTH by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |