Sonnet LXXI. To The Poppy.

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.

Anna Seward

Anna Seward was an English Romantic poet often called the 'Swan of Lichfield'. She was known for both her poetry and her extensive letter writing, which provided insight into 18th-century literary life. Seward was a steadfast critic of the neoclassicism that dominated much of the contemporary poetry scene, favoring a Romantic approach that sought to capture emotion and natural beauty. Her works often revolved around themes of love, loss, and nature. She was also a close friend of writers such as Erasmus Darwin and Samuel Johnson.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XXIX. Subject Continued.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet XXXVIII. Winter.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet XCIV.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

Sonnet LVII. Written The Night Preceding The [1]Funeral Of Mrs. Charles Buckeridge.

Anna Seward, Simple Poetry

English

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Sonnet LXXXIV.

While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn gilds,
    Trembles upon the thin, and naked spray,
    November, dragging on his sunless day,
    Lours, cold and fallen, on the watry fields;
And Nature to the waste dominion yields,
    Stript her last robes, with gold and purple gay. -
    So droops my life, of your soft beams despoil'd,
    Youth, Health, and Hope, that long exulting smil'd;
And the wild carols, and the bloomy hues
    Of merry Spring-time, spruce on every plain
    Her half-blown bushes, moist with sunny rain,
More pensive thoughts in my sunk heart infuse
    Than Winter's grey, and desolate domain,
    Faded, like my lost Youth, that no bright Spring renews.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XI.

How sweet to rove, from summer sun-beams veil'd,
    In gloomy dingles; or to trace the tide
    Of wandering brooks, their pebbly beds that chide;
    To feel the west-wind cool refreshment yield,
That comes soft creeping o'er the flowery field,
    And shadow'd waters; in whose bushy side
    The Mountain-Bees their fragrant treasure hide
    Murmuring; and sings the lonely Thrush conceal'd! -
Then, Ceremony, in thy gilded halls,
    Where forc'd and frivolous the themes arise,
    With bow and smile unmeaning, O! how palls
At thee, and thine, my sense! - how oft it sighs
    For leisure, wood-lanes, dells, and water-falls;
    And feels th' untemper'd heat of sultry skies!

Anna Seward

Sonnet XXXIV.

When Death, or adverse Fortune's ruthless gale,
    Tears our best hopes away, the wounded Heart
    Exhausted, leans on all that can impart
    The charm of Sympathy; her mutual wail
How soothing! never can her warm tears fail
    To balm our bleeding grief's severest smart;
    Nor wholly vain feign'd Pity's solemn art,
    Tho' we should penetrate her sable veil.
Concern, e'en known to be assum'd, our pains
    Respecting, kinder welcome far acquires
    Than cold Neglect, or Mirth that Grief profanes.
Thus each faint Glow-worm of the Night conspires,
    Gleaming along the moss'd and darken'd lanes,
    To cheer the Gloom with her unreal fires.

June 1780.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XCI.

On the fleet streams, the Sun, that late arose,
    In amber radiance plays; - the tall young grass
    No foot hath bruis'd; - clear Morning, as I pass,
    Breathes the pure gale, that on the blossom blows;
And, as with gold yon green hill's summit glows,
    The lake inlays the vale with molten glass. -
    Now is the Year's soft youth; - yet me, alas!
    Cheers not as it was wont; - impending woes
Weigh on my heart; - the joys, that once were mine,
    Spring leads not back; - and those that yet remain
    Fade while she blooms. - Each hour more lovely shine
Her crystal beams, and feed her floral Train;
    But ah with pale, and waning fires, decline
    Those eyes, whose light my filial hopes sustain.

Anna Seward

Sonnet XCII.

Behold that Tree, in Autumn's dim decay,
    Stript by the frequent, chill, and eddying Wind;
    Where yet some yellow, lonely leaves we find
    Lingering and trembling on the naked spray,
Twenty, perchance, for millions whirl'd away!
    Emblem, alas! too just, of Humankind!
    Vain MAN expects longevity, design'd
    For few indeed; and their protracted day
What is it worth that Wisdom does not scorn?
    The blasts of Sickness, Care, and Grief appal,
    That laid the Friends in dust, whose natal morn
Rose near their own; - and solemn is the call; -
    Yet, like those weak, deserted leaves forlorn,
    Shivering they cling to life, and fear to fall!

Anna Seward

Poppies

These are the flowers of sleep
That nod in the heavy noon,
Ere the brown shades eastward creep
To a drowsy and dreamful tune,
These are the flowers of sleep.

Loves lilies are passion-pale,
But these on the sun-kissed flood
Of the corn, that rolls breast deep,
Burn redder than drops of blood
On a dead kings golden mail.

Hearts dearest, I would that we
These blooms of forgetfulness
Might bind on our brows, and steep
Our love in Lethe ere less
Grow its flame with thee or me.

When Time with his evil eye
The beautiful Love has slain,
There is nought to gain or keep
Thereafter, and all is vain.
Should we wait to see Love die?

Sweetheart, of the joys men reap
We have reaped; tis time to rest.
Why should we wak...

Victor James Daley