Rachel Ellen Harrison B412011
Ode to the Poppy
Not for the promise of the labor’d field,
Not for the good the yellow harvests yield,
I bend at Ceres’ shrine;
For dull, to humid 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 various wreath I wove
Of laughing Spring’s luxuriant sweets,
To deck ungrateful Love:
The rose, or thorn, my labours crown’d.
As Venus smil’d, 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;
1
Ode to the Poppy
Not for the promise of the labor’d field,
Not for the good the yellow harvests yield,
I bend at Ceres’ shrine;
For dull, to humid 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 various wreath I wove
Of laughing Spring’s luxuriant sweets,
To deck ungrateful Love:
The rose, or thorn, my labours crown’d.
As Venus smil’d, 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;
1
