Though I roam a minstrel lonely All through the night My true harp shall praise sing only All through the night

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My friend the Angel climb’d up from his station into the mill; I remain’d alone, & then this appearance was no more, but I found myself sitting on a pleasant bank beside a river by moonlight hearing a harper who sung to the harp, & his theme was, The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, & breeds reptiles of the mind.

WILLIAM BLAKE.

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