Friday, May 22, 2009



Fantastic Extravagance

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there:
Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,
And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame.

With burst mouth red like a lion's it drank
The blood of the sun as he slaughtered sank,
And dipped its cup in the purpurate shine
When the eastern conduits ran with wine;

Till it grew lethargied with fierce bliss,
And hot as a swinked gipsy is,
And drowsed in sleepy savageries,
With mouth wide a-pout for a sultry kiss.

A child and man paced side by side,
Treading the skirts of eventide;
But between the clasp of his hand and hers
Lay, felt not, twenty withered years.
The Poppy (To Monica), Francis Thompson, 1859-1907

Sometimes called the Red Rose of Ceres by the ancient Romans. They believed the poppy was raised by Ceres, the corn goddess, wo is always depicted carrying poppies and corn, and who offered them as a sacrifice to the goods.

The poppy will always be associated with the Great War, springing up to cover the corpses of those who fought bravely on the battlefields of Northern France.

Many children are afraid to pick poppies because they believe that the petals wil fall (as they always do) and they will be struck by thunder. So they call them Thunder Flowers.

Another name given to the poppy is Headaches, bvecause it is said that the smell, or the vivid color, is bound to induce a pain in the head.

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