The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.
Through the dancing poppies stole
A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.
The poppies hung
Dew-dabbled on their stalks.
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.
Visions for those too tired to sleep,
These seeds cast a film over eyes which weep.
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.
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 lies
Within my cup of curious dyes.
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.
And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.
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.
Francis Thompson—The Poppy.
Bring poppies for a weary mind
That saddens in a senseless din.
Wm. Winter—The White Flag.
POPLAR
Popidus Fastigiata
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Trees that, like the poplar, lift upward all their boughs, give no shade and no shelter, whatever their height, trees the most lovingly shelter and shade us, when, like the willow, the higher soar their summits, the lowlier droop their boughs.
Bulwer-Lytton—What Will He Do With It? Bk. XI. Ch. X. Introductory lines.
POPULARITY
Their poet, a sad trimmer, but no less
In company a very pleasant fellow,
Had been the favorite of full many a mess
Of men, and made them speeches when half
mellow;
And though his meaning they could rarely guess,
Yet still they deign'd to hiccup or to bellow
The glorious meed of popular applause,
Of which the first ne'er knows the second cause.
Byeon—Don Joan. Canto III. St. 82.
| author =
| work =
| place =
| note =
| topic = Pop
| page = 614
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = Some shout him, and some hang upon his car,
To gaze in bis eyes, and bless him. Maidens
wave
Their 'kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy;
While others, not so satisfied, unhorse
The gilded equipage, and turning loose
His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve.
Cowpee—The Task. Bk. VI. L. 708.
And to some men popularity is always suspicious. Enjoying none themselves, they are
prone to suspect the validity of those attainments which command it.
Geo. Henry Lewes—The Spanish Drama.
ch. m.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stept
into his place,
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile
on Casey's face,
And when responding to the cheers he lightly
doft his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt, 't was
Casey at the bat.
Ebnest L. Thayer—Casey at the Bat.
All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him.
Coriokmits. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 221.
I have seen the dumb men throng to see him,
and
The blind to hear him speak: matrons flung
gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers
Upon him as he passed; the nobles bended,
As to Jove's statue, and the commons made
A shower and thunder with their caps and
shouts.
Coriolanus. Art II. Sc. 1. L. 278.
The ladies call him sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.
Love's Labour's Lost. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 329.
