Every Harlot Was A Virgin Once.

The Tree Which Moves Some To Tears Of Joy Is In The Eyes Of Others Only A Green Thing That Stands In The Way. Some See Nature All Ridicule And Deformity... And Some Scarce See Nature At All. But To The Eyes Of The Man Of Imagination, Nature Is Imagination Itself.

Why Cannot The Ear Be Closed To Its Own Destruction? Or The Glistening Eye To The Poison Of A Smile?

This Life's Dim Windows Of The Soul Distorts The Heavens From Pole To Pole And Leads You To Believe A Lie When You See With, Not Through, The Eye.

I Give You The End Of A Golden String, Only Wind It Into A Ball, It Will Lead You In At Heaven's Gate Built In Jerusalem's Wall.

And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time Walk Upon England's Mountains Green? And Was The Holy Lamb Of God On England's Pleasant Pastures Seen?