The Roses and the Sparrow

This minature sonnet was originally in the set of sonnets, 'Edinburgh: An Occasional Sequence', which I posted on 26 December 2011. However, when revising the poems I couldn't see what it was doing there - having no direct connection with Edinburgh or even Scotland. Hence, I removed it and then lost it on my computer. It has now come to light and seems to me just about worth preserving.

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The evening sun is not so bright
That roses do not add
A sort of quintessential light
That cancels all that’s sad.

A sparrow scuffled in the soil

In search of grubs or grain,
To me its ceaseless feathered toil
Was like a twist of pain.

For what is beautiful and seems

As peaceful as the lotus streams
Is but a point of view;
This sparrow, urgent at the fall
Of night’s frustrating lunar pall,
Might not agree with you.                                     

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© September 1980