To the Poppy
The text comes from The Poetical Works (1810).
While Summer roses all their glory yield
To crown the votary of love and joy,
Misfortune's victim hails, with many a sigh,
Thee, scarlet Poppy of the pathless field,
Gaudy, yet wild and lone; no leaf to shield
Thy flaccid vest, that as the gale blows high,
Flaps, and alternate folds around thy head.—
So stands in the long grass a love-craz'd maid,
Smiling aghast; while stream to every wind
Her garish ribbons, smear'd with dust and rain;
But brain-sick visions cheat her tortured mind,
And bring false peace. Thus, lulling grief and pain,
Kind dreams oblivious from thy juice proceed,
Thou flimsy, shewy, melancholy Weed.