Sonnet Variation: Anna Seward's "On the Poppy"
While summer roses all their glory yield
to give the eye an ecstasy of joy,
I yet, like summer breeze let out a sigh
while viewing sunlit grass in dusty field.
Above the sky is blue, no cloud to shield
the earth below from flame that glows on high;
it beats upon my overheated head.
The rose not only blooms, but also maid
who stands on road, her hair in dancing wind;
upon her cheeks are tears more cold than rain.
Her eyes look fair and farther still her mind,
like stars when light is mingled with some pain.
I watch the roses bloom, and then proceed
through field of grass and humble, dusty weed.
