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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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SPRING.

41 lines
Thomas Gray·1716–1771
Stern Winter now, by Spring repress'd,Forbears the long-continued strife;And Nature, on her naked breast,Delights to catch the gales of life. 2 Now o'er the rural kingdom rovesSoft Pleasure with her laughing train;Love warbles in the vocal groves,And Vegetation paints the plain. 3 Unhappy! whom to beds of painArthritic tyranny consigns;Whom smiling Nature courts in vain,Though Rapture sings, and Beauty shines. 4 Yet though my limbs disease invades,Her wings Imagination tries,And bears me to the peaceful shadesWhere ----'s humble turrets rise. 5 Here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight,Nor from the pleasing groves depart,Where first great Nature charm'd my sight,Where Wisdom first inform'd my heart. 6 Here let me through the vales pursueA guide--a father--and a friend;Once more great Nature's works renew,Once more on Wisdom's voice attend. 7 From false caresses, causeless strife,Wild hope, vain fear, alike removed,Here let me learn the use of life,When best enjoy'd--when most improved. 8 Teach me, thou venerable bower!Cool Meditation's quiet seat,The generous scorn of venal power,The silent grandeur of retreat. 9 When pride by guilt to greatness climbs,Or raging factions rush to war,Here let me learn to shun the crimesI can't prevent, and will not share. 10 But lest I fall by subtler foes,Bright Wisdom, teach me Curio's art,The swelling passions to compose,And quell the rebels of the heart! * * * * *