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Poppies

by Carl Sandburg, 1916

She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in.
 In a loose white gown she walks
             and a new child tugs at cords in her body.
 Her head to the west at evening when the dew is creeping,
 A shudder of gladness runs in her bones and torsal fiber:
 She loves blood-red poppies for a garden to walk in.

Published in Chicago Poems
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