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Poetry of William Blake

AH, SUNFLOWER

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!