Eight Harvard Poets/Poppy Song

POPPY SONG

I

FOOTSTEPS soft as fall the rose's
Petals on a dewy lawn,
Shaken when the wind uncloses
Golden gateways for the dawn;

Laughter light as is the swallows'
Chatter in the evening sky.
Wafted upward from the hollows
Where the limpid waters lie;

Weeping faint as is the willow's
By the margin of the lake,
Trembling into tiny billows
That the silent teardrops make;

Phantoms fitful and uncertain
As the pearly autumn rain,
Sweeping on in cloudy curtain
Down the wide way of the plain.

II

Oh, unhappy now to waken
When the dream had scarce begun!
Out of gentle twilight taken
Into realms of burning sun:

Oh, unhappy now to find me
Lost 'neath heavens hot with noon;
All that fairy land behind me;
Poppy fields and rising moon!

Drawbridge and portcullis screeching,
Bugles braying soon and late;
Who are they that come beseeching,
Calling at my castle gate?

Drive them hence, for they encumber
Days and nights with waking pain;
Tell them that I lie and slumber
Under poppies, wet with rain.

Who art thou that bendest praying
Over me with dasped palms;
Dim through surging darkness, saying
Words of prayer and murmured psalms?

Who art thou that kneelest weeping
By the border of my bed?
Cease thou, for I was but sleeping —
Dreaming, only, and not dead!

III

Phantoms flitting and uncertain
Sweeping round the endless plain;
Autumn twilight's dusky curtain,
Drowsy poppies, drenched with rain.