I sing the Poppy! The frail snowy weed!
The flower of Mercy! that within its heart
Doth read more

I sing the Poppy! The frail snowy weed!
The flower of Mercy! that within its heart
Doth keep "a drop serene" for human need,
A drowsy balm for every bitter smart.
For happy hours the Rose will idly blow--
The Poppy hath a charm for pain and woe.

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.

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 poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.

The poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.

Visions for those too tired to sleep,
These seeds cast a film over eyes which weep.

Visions for those too tired to sleep,
These seeds cast a film over eyes which weep.

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.

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.

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),