Poppies

common name for various plant species of the family Papaveraceae
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Poppies are a group of a flowering plants, many of which are grown in gardens for their colorful flowers.

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.
Find me next a Poppy posy,
Type of his harangues so dozy.
The poppies hung
Dew-dabbled on their stalks.

Quotes

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  • But pleasures are like poppies spread,
    You seize the flower, its bloom is shed.
  • When poor Mama long restless lies
    She drinks the poppy's juice;
    That liquor soon can close her eyes,
    And slumber soft produce:
    O then my sweet, my happy boy
    Will thank the Poppy-flower,
    Which brings the sleep to dear Mama,
    At midnight's darksome hour.
  • Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in the high aesthetic band,
    If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your medieval hand.
  • Not poppy nor mandragora
    Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world
    Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
    Which thou owedst yesterday.
  • Purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro
    Languescit moriens; lassove papavera collo
    Demisere caput, pluvia cum forte gravantur.
    • His snowy neck reclines upon his breast,
      Like a fair flow'r by the keen share oppress'd:
      Like a white poppy sinking on the plain,
      Whose heavy head is overcharg'd with rain.
    • Virgil, The Aeneid, IX, 435 (trans. John Dryden).

Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922)

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Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 613-614.
  • 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.
  • 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, Songs and Chorus of the Flowers, Poppies.
  • 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 beauty show.
    • Leigh Hunt, Songs and Chorus of the Flowers, Poppies.
  • 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.
    • Col. John McCrae, In Flander's Fields (We shall not Sleep).
  • 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.
    • Bayard Taylor, Poems of the Orient, The Poet in the East, Stanza 4.
  • 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 clipped its cup in the purpurate shine
    When the eastern conduits ran with wine.
  • Bring poppies for a weary mind
    That saddens in a senseless din.
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