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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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IV. ON THE RHINE.

25 lines
Matthew Arnold·1822–1888
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ain is the effort to forget.Some day I shall be cold, I know,As is the eternal moon-lit snowOf the high Alps, to which I go;But ah! not yet, not yet! Vain is the agony of grief.’Tis true, indeed, an iron knotTies straitly up from mine thy lot;And, were it snapped--thou lov’st me not!But is despair relief? A while let me with thought have done.And as this brimmed unwrinkled Rhine,And that far purple mountain line,Lie sweetly in the look divineOf the slow-sinking sun; So let me lie, and, calm as they,Let beam upon my inward viewThose eyes of deep, soft, lucent hue,--Eyes too expressive to be blue,Too lovely to be gray. Ah, quiet, all things feel thy balm!Those blue hills too, this river’s flow,Were restless once, but long ago.Tamed is their turbulent youthful glow;Their joy is in their calm.
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