Gateway to the Classics: Display Item
Hilda Conkling

Poppy

Oh big red poppy,

You look stern and sturdy,

Yet you bow to the wind

And sing a lullaby . . .

"Sleep, little ones under my breast

In the moonshine . . ." 

You make this lullaby,

Sweet, short,

Slow, beautiful,

And you thank the dew for giving you a drink.