"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."
"Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine."
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Source: William Blake (1868). “Songs of Innocence and of Experience, Showing the Two Contrary States of the Human Soul”, p.98
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