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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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I. THE RIVER.

20 lines
Matthew Arnold·1822–1888
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till glides the stream, slow drops the boatUnder the rustling poplars’ shade;Silent the swans beside us float:None speaks, none heeds; ah, turn thy head! Let those arch eyes now softly shine,That mocking mouth grow sweetly bland;Ah! let them rest, those eyes, on mine!On mine let rest that lovely hand! My pent-up tears oppress my brain,My heart is swoln with love unsaid.Ah! let me weep, and tell my pain,And on thy shoulder rest my head! Before I die,--before the soul,Which now is mine, must re-attainImmunity from my control,And wander round the world again;Before this teased, o’er-labored heartForever leaves its vain employ,Dead to its deep habitual smart,And dead to hopes of future joy.
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