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The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.
Scharmel Iris

 

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The poppies hung Dew-dabbed on their stalks.
John Keats

 

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And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,

The poppy’s bonfire spread.   Bayard Taylor 

 

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Through the dancing poppies stole

A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.  John Keats 

 

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Happy Friday…

 

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