Poppies.
What ! tired—so tired, my little one ?1
Tired of playing in the sun,2
This sultry August morn ?3
Come, lay the head on mother’s knee ;4
What have you brought me? Let me see,5
Red poppies from the corn.6
Yes ; pretty, pretty. Must I kiss7
The poppies ? Well, ’tis not amiss ;8
Your lips are just as red.9
Now lay the ruddy blossoms down,10
And watch, while mother makes a crown11
For baby’s curly head.12
See, first, a cluster opened wide,13
With little buds on either side,14
And then a bit of green.15
Look, baby, how the chaplet grows,16
Redder in hue than any rose,17
And fit for any queen.18
Fit even for baby’s pretty brow ;19
But baby eyes are sleeping now,20
Shut fast on mother’s knee.21
I drop the poppies—bud and flower—22
To think, this restful noontide hour,23
How good God is to me !24
Life lies before me like a field25
White unto harvest—love revealed,26
How fair that harvest shows !27
I sowed the seed in other years,28
With aching heart, with scalding tears29
I could not guess the close ;30
I could not see the end of grief,31
No dove came by with olive-leaf ;32
My life in ruin lay.33
Yet, through that drear and bitter time,34
God kept for me a golden prime—35
This happy harvest day.36
The love for which I used to long,37
With hopeless ache, and yearning strong,38
Is mine, well-tried and true ;39
The lone, dark path I used to tread40
Is hung with roses overhead,41
And sunshine glimmers through.42
The corn is ripe for harvesting,43
And in the song the reapers sing44
I have my happy share.45
Thank God for all His gifts to me :46
Fair home, fond love, and, on my knee,47
My harvest blossom fair.48
Ah ! waking, baby ? Does the sun49
Kiss you too warmly, little one,50
This sultry August morn ?51
What looks of love ! what glad surprise !52
There, stroke the tears from mother’s eyes,53
My poppy in the corn !54