Not To Know Me Argues Yourselves Unknown.

No War Or Battle Sound Was Heard The World Around.

And On The Tree Of Life, The Middle Tree And Highest There That Grew, Sat Like A Cormorant.

Bring The Rathe Primrose That Forsaken Dies, The Tufted Crow-toe, And Pale Gessamine, The White Pink, And The Pansy Freaked With Jet, The Glowing Violet, The Musk-rose, And The Well Attir'd Woodbine, With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears: Bid Amaranthus All His Beauty Shed, And Daffadillies Fill Their Cups With Tears, To Strew The Laureate Hearse Where Lycid Lies.

He That Hath Light Within Their Own Breast, May Sit In The Centre And Enjoy Bright Day.

The Sacred Influence Of Light Appears.