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!
Fri, 2014-03-07 18:55
#1
I will never stop loving this poem. It's beautiful in it's simplicity.
It's all about human desire (as so much of Blake's work is).