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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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noun

One who, or that which, accelerates.

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TRANSPOSITION

38 lines
H.D.·1886–1961
am blown like a leafHither and thither.The city about meResolves itself into sound of many voices,Rustling and fluttering,Leaves shaken by the breeze. A million forces ignore me, I know not why,I am drunken with it all.Suddenly I feel an immense willStored up hitherto and unconscious till this instant.Projecting my bodyAcross a street, in the face of all its traffic. I dart and dash:I do not know why I go.These people watch me,I yield them my adventure. Lazily I lounge through labyrinthine corridors,And with eyes suddenly altered,I peer into an office I do not know,And wonder at a startled face that penetrates my own. Roses--pavement--I will take all this city away with me--People--uproar--the pavement jostling and flickering--Women with incredible eyelids:Dandies in spats:Hard-faced throng discussing me--I know them all.I will take them away with me,I insistently rob them of their essence,I must have it all before night,To sing amid my green. I glide out unobservantIn the midst of the trafficBlown like a leafHither and thither,Till the city resolves itself into a clamour of voices,Crying hollowly, like the wind rustling through the forest,Against the frozen housefronts:Lost in the glitter of a million movements.