SHE loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in. In a loose white gown she walks and a new child tugs at cords in her body. Her head to the west at evening when the dew is creeping, A shudder of gladness runs in her bones and torsal fiber: She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by FRANCIS BEAUMONT AT CASTLE WOOD by EMILY JANE BRONTE A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 4 by THOMAS CAMPION THE MAD GARDENER'S SONG by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE MESSAGE, FR. THE FAIR MAID OF THE EXCHANGE by THOMAS HEYWOOD EXODUS FOR OREGON by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER |