THE GARDEN OF SLEEP;
OR, "PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT!"
In the heart of fair Ind, which JOHN BULL hopes to keep,
Trade planted a Garden—a Garden of Sleep;
'Neath the hot Eastern sky—in the place of good corn—
It is there that the baneful white Poppy is born,—
Chinese Johnny's desire, lending dreams of delight,
Which are his when the poppy-juice cometh in sight.
Oh! the Mart hath no heart, and Trade laugheth to scorn
The plea of friend PEASE, where the Poppies are born.
In this Garden of Sleep, where white Poppies are spread,
Fair INDIA plucketh the opiate head.
JOHN BULL says. "My dear, PEASE's tales make me creep.
He swears it, fills graves with 'pigtails,' who seek sleep!"
Fair INDIA replies, "That may possibly be;
But they Revenue bring, some Six Millions, you see!
Turn me out if you will, smash the Trade if you must;
But—you'll make up the money somehow, Sir, I trust!"
