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Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtile virtue read more
Let but my scarlet head appear
And I am held in scorn;
Yet juice of subtile virtue lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.
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),
Central depth of purple,
Leaves more bright than rose,
Who shall tell what brightest thought
read more
Central depth of purple,
Leaves more bright than rose,
Who shall tell what brightest thought
Out of darkness grows?
Who, through what funereal pain,
Souls to love and peace attain?
- Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),
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.
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.
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.
Gentle sleep!
Scatter thy drowsiest poppies from above;
And in new dreams not soon to vanish, bless
read more
Gentle sleep!
Scatter thy drowsiest poppies from above;
And in new dreams not soon to vanish, bless
My senses with the sight of her I love.
Bring poppies for a weary mind
That saddens in a senseless din.
Bring poppies for a weary mind
That saddens in a senseless din.