Here you will find the Poem Ode To The Poppy of poet Charlotte Smith
Written by a deceased friend. NOT for the promise of the labour'd field, Not for the good the yellow harvests yield, I bend at Ceres' shrine; For dull, to human eyes, appear The golden glories of the year, Alas!--a melancholy worship's mine, I hail the goddess for her scarlet flower; Thou brilliant weed, That dost so far exceed The richest gifts gay Flora can bestow: Heedless I pass'd thee, in life's morning hour, (Thou comforter of woe) Till sorrow taught me to confess thy power. In early days, when Fancy cheats, A varied wreath I wove, Of laughing Spring's luxuriant sweets, To deck ungrateful Love: The rose, or thorn, my labours crown'd; As Venus smiled, or Venus frown'd; But Love and Joy, and all their train, are flown; E'en languid Hope no more is mine, And I will sing of thee alone, Unless, perchance, the attributes of Grief, The cypress bud, and willow leaf, Their pale funereal foliage blend with thine. Hail, lovely blossom!--thou canst ease The wretched victims of Disease; Canst close those weary eyes in gentle sleep, Which never open but to weep; For, oh! thy potent charm Can agonizing Pain disarm; Expel imperious Memory from her seat, And bid the throbbing heart forget to beat. Soul-soothing plant! that can such blessings give, By thee the mourner bears to live! By thee the hopeless die! Oh! ever 'friendly to despair,' Might Sorrow's pallid votary dare, Without a crime, that remedy implore, Which bids the spirit from its bondage fly, I'd court thy palliative aid no more; No more I'd sue that thou shouldst spread, Thy spell around my aching head, But would conjure thee to impart Thy balsam for a broken heart; And by thy soft Lethean power, ( Inestimable flower) Burst these terrestrial bonds, and other regions try.