On a poppy seed is a tiny house, Dogs bark at the poppy-seed moon, And never, never do those poppy-seed dogs Imagine that somewhere there is a world much larger.
The Earth is a seed - and really no more, While other seeds are planets and stars. And even if there were a hundred thousand, Each might have a house and a garden.
All in a poppy head. The poppy grows tall, The children run by and the poppy sways. And in the evening, under the rising moon, Dogs bark somewhere, now louder, now softer.