Happy, Happy, Happy For All That God

Beauty Is A Fading Flower,truth Is But A Wizard's Tower,where A Solemn Death-bell Tolls,and A Forest Round It Rolls.

At A Certain Stage In His Evolution, Man Himself Had Been Able To Lay Hold Upon A Higher Order Of Things, Which Raised Him Above The Level Of The Beasts That Perish, And Enabled Him To See, At Least In The Distance, The Shining Towers Of The City Of God.

The Wind Was A Torrent Of Darkness Among The Gusty Trees, The Moon Was A Ghostly Galleon Tossed Upon Cloudy Seas, The Road Was A Ribbon Of Moonlight, Over The Purple Moor, And The Highwayman Came Riding-- Riding--riding-- The Highwayman Came Riding, Up To The Old Inn-door.

There’s A Magic In The Distance, Where The Sea-line Meets The Sky.

Oh, Grown-ups Cannot Understand, And Grown-ups Never Will, How Short The Way To Fairyland Across The Purple Hill.