Beyond the gold-green lane the poppy garden
Flutters and flaunts, like sunset seas aglow.
The frosty, fuzzy stalks and blue leaf banners
Ranging in row on row.
Here are some multi-petaled, ruby crimson,
Into a crumpled purple withering,
Like tattered velvet old and dim and dusty
Of a neglected king.
Whiter are these than are the moon-white lilies;
Censers that dainty fragrances exhale;
Each, when the early sun fills with his ardor,
Beams like a Holy Grail.
Pure, pure and shining gold these silk-smooth goblets,
Brimming with drowsy, heady scents to steep
The bold inbreathing spirit in gold visions,
Bright mysteries of sleep.
And here, O, here, are they the best belovèd,
Scarlet and splendid as the soul's desire,
With smouldered hearts hot from the glorious, daring
Welcome of the sun's fire.
"O, happy dreamer in the poppy garden,
Under the soft, sweet sky of summer blue,
O, happy dreamer in the poppy garden,
When will your dreams come true?"
"For every dream in this my poppy garden
A springing hope within my heart began;
Hopes are quick seeds of the world's wide garden,
Lord of whose life is man."