Who 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 Sunflower wishes to go!
Although my sunflower never got the chance to live, if it had, it would have looked somethign like this. This life was just too much for the poor baby sunflower to endure.
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