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Christopher Brennan - "Where the poppy-banners flow . ."
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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?
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