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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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117. Song—Farewell to Eliza

16 lines
Robert Burns·1759–1796·Romanticism
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ROM thee, Eliza, I must go, And from my native shore;The cruel fates between us throw A boundless ocean’s roar:But boundless oceans, roaring wide, Between my love and me,They never, never can divide My heart and soul from thee.  Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid that I adore!A boding voice is in mine ear, We part to meet no more!But the latest throb that leaves my heart, While Death stands victor by,—That throb, Eliza, is thy part, And thine that latest sigh!
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