When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree
To some people a tree is something so incredibly beautiful that it brings tears to the eyes. To others it is just a green thing that stands in the way.
I cry, Love! Love! Love! happy happy Love! free as the mountain wind!
Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy.
The Man who pretends to be a modest enquirer into the truth of a self-evident thing is a Knave.
The Man who never in his Mind & Thoughts travel'd to Heaven Is No Artist.