With spirit-folk kept delicate carouse;
None ever turned ungreeted from that door.
(Sorrow himself was guest a weary while,)
But yesterday when I passed by once more,
Met me no welcoming smile,
Nor any breath the unwavering branch to stir,
Silent each glad ærial chorister;
Three drowsy poppies brooded by the wall,
Lonely and tall.
Then, as I leaned above their crimson bloom,