"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."
"Oh! why was I born with a different face? why was I not born like the rest of my race? when I look,each one starts! when I speak, I offend; then Im silent & passive & lose every friend. Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise, my person degrade & my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; all my talents I bury, and dead is my fame. Im either too low or too highly prized; when elate I m envy'd, when meek Im despis'd"
8 likes
Source: William Blake (2000). “The Selected Poems of William Blake”, p.149, Wordsworth Editions
About the author
Same author
More quotes by William Blake
"To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour."
"In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors."
"If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite."
"The man who never alters his opinions is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind."
"He who kisses joy as it flies by will live in eternity's sunrise."