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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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73. Song—Farewell to Ballochmyle

16 lines
Robert Burns·1759–1796·Romanticism
HE CATRINE woods were yellow seen, The flowers decay’d on Catrine lee,Nae lav’rock sang on hillock green, But nature sicken’d on the e’e.Thro’ faded groves Maria sang, Hersel’ in beauty’s bloom the while;And aye the wild-wood ehoes rang, Fareweel the braes o’ Ballochmyle!  Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers, Again ye’ll flourish fresh and fair;Ye birdies dumb, in with’ring bowers, Again ye’ll charm the vocal air.But here, alas! for me nae mair Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr, Fareweel, fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle!