flowers sway- 

 ing among the familiar daisies 

 and grasses of my own land, and 

 otherwise attended by a host of 

 meadow flowers whose names I 

 had not yet learned. The night 

 ephemene fluttered here and there, 

 and a large moth, which seemed al- 

 most phosphorescent in its whiteness, 

 hovered spirit -like close above the 

 poppies, recalling to mind a weird 

 picture which I had once lingered 

 over in genuine fascination "The Soul 

 of the Opium -Eater" -representing a 

 gauze -winged moth in the moonlight sipping "the drop serene 

 from the open chalice of a poppy a bold Hawthornesque conceit 



SLEEPING POPPIES 



