Here you will find the Poem Poppies of poet Christopher John Brennan
Where the poppy-banners flow in and out amongst the corn, spotless morn ever saw us come and go hand in hand, as girl and boy warming fast to youth and maid, half afraid at the hint of passionate joy still in Summer's rose unshown: yet we heard nor knew a fear; strong and clear summer's eager clarion blown from the sunrise to the set: now our feet are far away, night and day, do the old-known spots forget? Sweet, I wonder if those hours breathe of us now parted thence, if a sense of our love-birth thrill their flowers. Poppies flush all tremulous -- has our love grown into them, root and stem; are the red blooms red with us? Summer's standards are outroll'd, other lovers wander slow; I would know if the morn is that of old. Here our days bloom fuller yet, happiness is all our task; still I ask -- do the vanish'd days forget?