Make your own free website on Tripod.com
*THE SONG OF*
THE SHIRLEY POPPY FAIRY


~*~*~*~*~*~*~


We were all of us scarlet, and counted as
weeds,
When we grew in fields with the corn;
Now, fall from your pepper-pots with the corn;
seeds,
And lovelier things shall be born!

You shall sleep in the soil, and awaken next
year;
Your buds shall burst open; behold!
Soft-tinted and silken, shall petals appear,
And then into Poppies unfold--

Like daintiest ladies, who dance and are gay,
All frilly and pretty to see!
So I shake out the ripe little seeds, and I say:
"Go, sleep, and awaken like me!"

(A clergyman, who was also a clever gardener, made these
many-coloured poppies out of the wild ones, and named them
after the village where he was the Vicar.)