 |
| Forget Me Not |
 |
 |
|
| Ah, Sunflower! waery of time, Who countest the steps of the Sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime, Where the traveler'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. Wm. Blake 1757-1827 |
 |
|
 |
|