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A rose and poppy talked about
     Which flower was loved the best.
The rose explained:  'It’s surely me.
     I’m better than the rest.'

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'Which flowers do lovers give as gifts,
     The poppy or the rose?
It’s roses that they buy for love,
     As everybody knows.'

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The poppy thought about this fact
     And sadly had to sigh.
She conceded this was all too true -
     A fact which made her to cry.

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Her sister poppies all agreed:
     'The rose is best of all.
Our petals were not made to last
     And very quickly fall.'

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A painter came into their field.
     'I’m Monet,' is what he said.
'I want to paint a stunning scene
     With poppies proud and red.'
 
'The beauty of your crimson flowers
     Has really touched my heart,
And people will remember you
     Each time they see my art.'

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Today the poppies lift their heads;
     You’ll never hear them cry,
And, in Monet’s lovely painting,
     They’ll never ever die.

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