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.

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there:
Like read more

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare,
And left the flushed print in a poppy there:
Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,
And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame.
With burnt mouth red like a lion's it drank
The blood of the sun as he slaughtered sank,
And dipped its cup in the purpurate shine
When the eastern conduits ran with wine.

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),

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?

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 poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.

The poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.

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.

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.

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.