Poem of the week The Sunflower by Dora Greenwell
almost 3 years in The guardian
An allegory of Christian devotion also sounds a lot like a lyric of unrequited loveTill the slow daylight pale,A willing slave, fast bound to one above,I wait; he seems to speed, and change, and fail;I know he will not move.I lift my golden orbTo his, unsmitten when the roses die,And in my broad and burning disk absorbThe splendours of his eye.His eye is like a clearKeen flame that searches through me; I must droopUpon my stalk, I cannot reach his sphere;To mine he cannot stoop.I win not my desire,And yet I fail not of my guerdon, lo!A thousand flickering darts and tongues of fireAround me spread and glow;All rayed and crowned, I missNo queenly state until the summer wane,The hours flit by; none knoweth of my bliss,And none has guessed my pain;I follow one above,I track the shadow of his steps, I growMost like to him I loveOf all that shines below. Continue reading...
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