A Field of Poppys
That old summer meadow,
Once frozen ‘neath the ice,
Has become so radiant in colours.
Interspersed with Daiseys,
That startling red brigade rise,
To astound a passionate man.
A true British summer comes,
When this glory is being seen,
And my love wanders free.
And I am gay now,
In the rich scented sunshine,
Filling my heart with wonder.
Happy of one more lifetime,
To believe this love exists,
Before the dying Poppys sink.
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