POPPY

Now that you’ve come
and all the flowers are smiling
what shall I say to the rose
which blushes in your cheeks,

what shall I say to the flowers
which scent the air around you,
and every blade of grass
that sings to you, “I love you”,

now that you’re come, and I am in the field
standing by the lonely sycamore,
I’ll tell her all about you, and she will come to you
and whisper in your ear, ma chérie d'amour.

arrière-grand-père Tommy.x.