Some day I shall rise and leave my friends
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nd seek you again through the world’s far ends,You whom I found so fair (Touch of your hands and smell of your hair!),My only god in the days that were. My eager feet shall find you again,
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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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