"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."
"How do you know but ev’ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos’d by your senses five?"
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Source: William Blake (1975). “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell”, p.51, Oxford Paperbacks
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