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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 [5]
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;
[10]
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.
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