And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy to hear.
Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy.
The Whole Business of Man is The Arts, & All Things Common.
What is now proved was once only imagined.
More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul.
When the sun rises, do you not see a round disc of fire somewhat like a guinea? O no, no, I see an innumerable company of the heavenly host crying Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.