Classic Poem

Where the poppy-banners flow
in and out amongst the corn,
spotless morn
ever saw us come and go.

hand in hand, as girl and boy
warming fast to youth and maid,
half-afraid
at the hint of passionate joy.

hid in summer's rose unblown:
yet we heard nor knew a fear,
strong and clear,
summer's eager clarion blown,

from the sunrise to the set:
now our feet are far away,
night and day,
do the old known spots forget?

Sweet, I wonder if those hours
breathe of us now parted thence,
if a sense
of our love-birth thrill their flowers:

poppies flush all tremulous;
has our love grown into them,
root and stem,
are the red blooms red with us?

Summer's banner is unroll'd;
other lovers wander slow;
I would know
if the morn is that of old.

Here our days bloom fuller yet,
and our love is all our task;
still I ask:
can those olden days forget?