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The poppies were dancing in their garden home. The morning breezes were their partners.
They swung and they curtsied. They scraped and they bowed. They spread their scarlet skirts and bent so low that their slender stems seemed in danger of breaking.
Phyllis, as she came down the walk, caught the flutter of the gay skirts of the poppies, and drew nearer to watch the merry dance.
At last the breezes passed, as those little whirling breezes have a way of doing. They left the poppies quite breathless and quiet. One poppy's neck was broken in the last wild whirl, and she stood with drooping head.
In the very centre of the poppy bed stood a tall, stiff poppy with a fluffy white head. She was very lovely, but, being quite old, was too stiff to dance as the younger ones did.
"Those whirlwind breezes are wild things," said the old white poppy. "See, they snatched a handful of my white hair and threw it on the ground. They are very rude."
"Did it hurt?" asked a bud with drooping head.
"Why, of course it didn't hurt," said a newly opened blossom, who held her head erect upon her hairy stem. And the old white poppy shook her head stiffly.
"What a merry family you are," said Phyllis. "You have been blossoming all summer long. Do you like our garden?"
"We double poppies never grow except in gardens," said the old white poppy. "But some of these single poppies escape from the garden where they really belong, and grow wild in the fields. They shake out their four petals there, and pretend that the fields are their real homes.
"They do not always wear scarlet skirts either. Some poppies are white and some are purplish-blue. Other poppies were bright yellow dresses.
"But wherever poppies grow they are play-fellows with the breezes and the sunshine. You may always see them dancing and shaking their full skirts.
"Over in India great fields of poppies are raised. From the juice a kind of medicine is made. So you see, while here in your garden we are only ornamental, yet there are times when even poppies can be useful."
"My mother says that we are of use always if we are cheerful and happy and sunshiny," said Phyllis, running on down the walk.
By: Lenore E. Mulets
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Other Poems
care of poppies ,
the drowsy poppy ,
the poppy seed lady ,
a dogs tale ,
poppy for a thought? ,
a flowers sensuality ,
the poppy
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