"And bring me the flag that is moist with the wave, And the rush where the heath-winds sigh, And the hemlock plant, that flourishes so brave, And the poppy, with its coal-black eye;And weave them tightly, and weave them well, The fever of my head to allay;— And soon shall I faint with the death-weed smell, And sleep these throbbings away."
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Original Language: English
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Sources
Ann Taylor, "The Maniac’s Song" (1808)
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Conium
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Conium
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