SUNFLOWER. 
149 
Is on the sky, mark how it folds its leaves, 
And droops its head, and weeps sweet tears of dew,_ 
The constant sunflower. 
THE SUNFLOWER. 
HOOD. 
I will not have the mad Clytie, 
Whose head’s turned by the sun; 
The tulip is a courtly queen, 
Whom therefore I will shun ; 
The cowslip is a country wench. 
The violet is a nun ;— 
But I will woo the dainty rose, 
The queen of every one. 
SUNFLOWER. 
SHELLEY. 
Light-enchanted sunflower ! Thou 
Who gazest ever true and tender 
On the sun’s revolving splendor, 
Follow not his faithless glance 
With thy faded countenance ; 
Nor teach my beating heart to fear, 
If leaves can mourn without a tear, 
How eyes must weep. 
