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.

Poet: Carl Sandburg
Poem: 26. Poppies
Volume: Chicago Poems
- Fogs and Fires
Year: Published/Written in 1916
Poem of the Day: Mar 18 2012
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