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),

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.

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

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

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.

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?

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.

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.

Bring poppies for a weary mind
That saddens in a senseless din.

Bring poppies for a weary mind
That saddens in a senseless din.