Between my knees my forehead was, — 

 My lips drawn in, said not Alas ! 

 My hair was over in the grass, 

 My naked ears heard the day pass. 



My eyes, wide open, had the run 



Of some ten weeds to fix upon ; 



Among those few, out of the sun. 



The wood-spurge flowered, three cups in one. 



From perfect grief there need not be 

 Wisdom or even memory : 

 One thing then learnt remains to me, — 

 The wood-spurge has a cup of three. 



ROSSETTI. 



A 



THE SUN-FLOWER 



H, Sun-flower ! weary of time, 

 Wlio 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 Sun-flower wishes to go. 



BLAKE. 



51 



