Whom poets vision near the central throne
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ngelically ministrant to man; So fares she forth with smiling, God ward face; Nor should we grieve, but give eternal thanks — Save that we mortal are, and needs must mourn.
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— William Blake
Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
Or wilt thou go ask the Mole:
Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?
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