What poet found the haunt of the dread throng
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ND THEIR LOST HOPE. 13 On that far mountain-height, Ere dawn was lost in light, That once, plucked fadeless flowers that to theirrealm belong.
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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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