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lirik lagu ghizela rowe - charlotte smith - ode to the poppy

not for the promise of the labour’d field
not for the good the yellow harvests yield
i bend at ceres’ shrine;
for dull, to human eyes, appear
the golden glories of the year
alas!~~a melancholy worship’s mine
i hail the goddess for her scarlet flower;
thou brilliant weed
that dost so far exceed
the richest gifts gay flora can bestow:
heedless i pass’d thee, in life’s morning hour
(thou comforter of woe)
till sorrow taught me to confess thy power
in early days, when fancy cheats
a varied wreath i wove
of laughing spring’s luxuriant sweets
to deck ungrateful love:
the rose, or th~rn, my labours crown’d;
as venus smiled, or venus frown’d;

but love and joy, and all their train, are flown;
e’en languid hope no more is mine
and i will sing of thee alone
unless, perchance, the attributes of grief
the cypress bud, and willow leaf
their pale funereal foliage blend with thine
hail, lovely blossom!~~thou canst ease
the wretched victims of disease;
canst close those weary eyes in gentle sleep
which never open but to weep;
for, oh! thy potent charm
can agonizing pain disarm;
expel imperious memory from her seat
and bid the throbbing heart forget to beat
soul~soothing plant! that can such blessings give
by thee the mourner bears to live!
by thee the hopeless die!
oh! ever “friendly to despair,”
might sorrow’s pallid votary dare
without a crime, that remedy implore
which bids the spirit from its bondage fly
i’d court thy palliative aid no more;
no more i’d sue that thou shouldst spread
thy spell around my aching head
but would conjure thee to impart
thy balsam for a broken heart;
and by thy soft lethean power
( inestimable flower)
burst these terrestrial bonds, and other regions try

- lirik lagu ghizela rowe

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