"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."
"All futurity seems teeming with endless destruction never to be repelled; Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage."
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Source: William Blake, W. H. Stevenson (2007). “Blake: The Complete Poems”, p.421, Pearson Education
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