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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Poppies in the Wheat
By Helen Hunt Jackson (1830–1885)
 
ALONG Ancona’s hills the shimmering heat,
  A tropic tide of air with ebb and flow,
  Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow
Like flashing seas of green, which toss and beat
Around the vines. The poppies lithe and fleet        5
  Seem running, fiery torchmen, to and fro
  To mark the shore.
                    The farmer does not know
That they are there. He walks with heavy feet,
  Counting the bread and wine by autumn’s gain;
  But I—I smile to think that days remain        10
Perhaps to me in which, though bread be sweet
  No more, and red wine warm my blood in vain,
I shall be glad, remembering how the fleet
Lithe poppies ran like torchmen with the wheat.
 
 
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