The red poppy...

The morning dew was on your lip
In drops of silver, scarlet flower.
All afternoon June's sunlit hours
Poured gold into your brimming cup.


You and your dancing sisters seen
Cavorting on a coverlet of green,
Native ground to your pure ilk
Dressed in your flames of fiery silk.


But someone's careless hand has torn
You from the earth where you were born
To alien earth, and where you stood
By dawn is stained red with your blood.