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Ah, Sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime, Where the traveller's journal 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, The Sunflower And the yellow sunflower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood. - William Cullen Bryant Light-enchanted sunflower, thou Who gazest ever true and tender On the sun's revolving splendour. - Pedro Calderon de la Barca, Magico Prodigioso (sc. 3), (Shelley's translation) Restless sunflower; cease to move. - Pedro Calderon de la Barca, Magico Prodigioso (sc. 3), (Shelley's translation) The Sunflow'r, thinking 'twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t' excuse the blame; It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head. - Abraham Cowley, Of Plants (bk. IV, Of Flowers, The Poppy, l. 102) With zealous step he climbs the upland lawn, And bows in homage to the rising dawn; Imbibes with eagle eye the golden ray, And watches, as it moves, the orb of day. - Erasmus Darwin, Loves of the Plants (canto I, l. 225) And here the sunflower of the spring Burns bright in morning's beam. - Ebenezer Elliott ("The Corn Law Rhymer") Space for the sunflower, bright with yellow glow, To court the sky. - Caroline Gilman, To the Ursulines Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven. - James Montgomery, The Sunflower Sunflowers by the sides of brooks, Turn'd to the sun. - Thomas Moore As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets, The same look which she turn'd when he rose. - Thomas Moore, Believe Me, if all Those Endearing Young Charms The lofty follower of the sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, Drooping all night; and when he warm returns, Points her enamor'd bosom to his ray. - James Thomson (1) But one, the lofty follower of the Sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, Points her enamoured bosom to his ray. - James Thomson (1), Seasons--Summer (l. 216)
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