Ah Sunflower,
weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that
sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;
Where the
Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
William Blake
http://www.poemhunter.com
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