What grace was there that flower had not? 

 'Twas but a moment, — o'er the rose 

 A veil of moss the angel throws. 

 And, robed in nature's simplest weed. 

 Could there a flower that rose exceed ? 



From the German of Krummacher. 



"The Garden Hypnotist" 



The poppy, though brief of days, is the garden 

 hypnotist. Look steadily at a mass of these glowing 

 flowers blending their multicolors in the full sunlight. 

 At first their brilliancy is blinding; then as the pet- 

 als undulate on the slender stems, your attention is 

 riveted as if a hundred eyes returne'd your gaze, and 

 drowsiness steals over you, for each flower bears the 

 spell of the hypnotic pod, whose seeds bring sleep. 



" The Garden of a Commuter'' s Wife:' 



{Mabel Osgood Wright.) 



We are slumbrous 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, 



I have in my hand a small red Poppy which I 

 gathered on Whit-Sunday in the palace of the Caesars. 

 It is an intensely simple, intensely floral flower. 

 All silk and flame, a scarlet cup ! perfect edged all 

 round, seen among the wild grass far away like a 

 burning coal fallen from Heaven's altars. You 

 cannot have a more complete, a more stainless type 



