Ah Sunflower~William Blake(1757-1827) P. 1793
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.
Giant globes of gardeny goodness. This is what you get with sunflowers.
That’s all, end of article. Not.