Sonnet LXXI. To The Poppy.

A poem by Anna Seward

While Summer Roses all their glory yield
To crown the Votary of Love and Joy,
Misfortune's Victim hails, with many a sigh,
Thee, scarlet POPPY of the pathless field,
Gaudy, yet wild and lone; no leaf to shield
Thy flaccid vest, that, as the gale blows high,
Flaps, and alternate folds around thy head. -
So stands in the long grass a love-craz'd Maid,
Smiling aghast; while stream to every wind
Her gairish ribbons, smear'd with dust and rain;
But brain-sick visions cheat her tortur'd mind,
And bring false peace. Thus, lulling grief and pain,
Kind dreams oblivious from thy juice proceed,
THOU FLIMSY, SHEWY, MELANCHOLY WEED.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Sonnet LXXI. To The Poppy.' by Anna Seward

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy