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!

William Blake


She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear thier dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
That smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love in innocent!

George Gordon Byron


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