The Garland Of Sleep

A wreath of poppy flowers, With leaves of lotus blended, Is carved on Life's facade of hours, From night to night suspended.

Along the columned wall, From birth's low portal starting, It flows, with even rise and fall, To death's dark door of parting.

How short each measured arc, How brief the columns' number! The wreath begins and ends in dark, And leads from sleep to slumber.

The marble garland seems, With braided leaf and bloom, To deck the palace of our dreams As if it were a tomb.