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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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PARTED

23 lines
Siegfried Sassoon·1886–1967
leepless I listen to the surge and droneAnd drifting roar of the town's undertone;Till through quiet falling rain I hear the bellsTolling and chiming their brief tune that tellsDay's midnight end. And from the day that's overNo flashes of delight I can recover;But only dreary winter streets, and facesOf people moving in loud clanging places:And I in my loneliness, longing for you... For all I did to-day, and all I'll doTo-morrow, in this city of intenseArteried activities that throb and strive,Is but a beating down of that suspenseWhich holds me from your arms.I am aliveOnly that I may find you at the endOf these slow-striking hours I toil to spend,Putting each one behind me, knowing but this--That all my days are turning toward your kiss;That all expectancy awaits the deepConsoling passion of your eyes, that keepTheir radiance for my coming, and their peaceFor when I find in you my love's release.