The Sunflower

The Sunflower bows upon her breast 
Her golden head, and goes to rest, 
Forgetting all the days that were 
When she was young and proud and fair; 
And in the glowing August air 
Bees came and sought and found her sweet 
Now earth is cold about her feet. 
And wasps forsake her, and the sun 
No longer seeks her for the one 
Flower in his splendid image made. 
Her beauty's done, her farewell said.

Her large leaves fold in weary wise,
And heavy are her great brown eyes.
The living rubies that would run
Across her discs that mocked the sun — 
The ladybirds sleep, every one. 
The great stalk stoops towards the earth 
Where all dreams end, whence all have birth. 
The hive-bee has forgotten quite 
How once he loved her, for the night
Has come wherein no bee can spy 
Sweets in this sunflower, dead and dry.