Every castle of the air
Sleeps in the fine black grains, and there
Are seeds for every read more

Every castle of the air
Sleeps in the fine black grains, and there
Are seeds for every romance, or light
Whiff of a dream for a summer night.

We are slumberous poppies,
Lords of Lethe downs,
Some awake and some asleep,
Sleeping read more

We are slumberous poppies,
Lords of Lethe downs,
Some awake and some asleep,
Sleeping in our crowns.
What perchance our dreams may know,
Let our serious may know.
- Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),

The poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.

The poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.

And would it not be proud romance
Falling in some obscure advance,
To rise, a poppy field read more

And would it not be proud romance
Falling in some obscure advance,
To rise, a poppy field of France?

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.

Through the dancing poppies stole
A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.

Through the dancing poppies stole
A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and read more

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard among the guns below.

Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy.

Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.