O you ask what the birds say ? The sparrow, the 
Gr The linnet and thrush say, “ I love and I love ! 
In the winter they’re silent--the wind is so strong ; 
What it says I don’t know, but it sings a loud song. 
But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, 
And singing and loving—all come back together. 
But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, 
The green fields below him, the blue sky above, 
That he sings and he sings, and for ever sings he — 
“I love my love, and my love loves me !” 
A 1 . T. Coleridge. 
Jall jSuNFLo we^—Haughtiness. 
Tf H, sunflower, weary of time, 
“ Who countest the steps of the sun, 
Seeking after that sweet golden clime 
Whefe the traveller’s journey is done — 
Where the youth pined away with desire. 
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow, 
Arise from their graves, hnd aspire 
Where my sunflower wishes to go ! 
William Blake. 
