LET no blame upon us fall, Thrifty ones of cot and hall, That, while ye take care to hoard Corn and wine for winter's board, We beside the hedgerow lie, Heedless how bright hours go by. Wonder not we dread no want, When the year is bare and gaunt: Idle bread we have to eat, -- Poppies grew amidst our wheat. Blame not us, ye revelers blithe, Who have lodged the rake and scythe, And with fan and flail no more Tread the granary's breezy floor: Though, with humming wire and flute, The boon Season well ye suit, Call us not by word or glance; We will neither feast nor dance. Blame not us that sleep is sweet, -- Poppies grew amidst our wheat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REASONS FOR DRINKING by HENRY ALDRICH THE SICK ROSE, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE DOVE RIVER ANTHOLOGY, BY OWN WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: LUCY GRAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MONOTONOUS VARIETY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MY MOTHER by FLORENCE R. ANDREWS A PORTRAIT by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY VERSES TO -- --, ON THE FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR MARRIAGE by BERNARD BARTON |