What Has Reason To Do With The

And I Made A Rural Pen, And I Stained The Water Clear, And I Wrote My Happy Songs Every Child May Joy To Hear.

I Turn My Eyes To The Schools & Universities Of Europe And There Behold The Loom Of Locke Whose Woof Rages Dire, Washed By The Water-wheels Of Newton. Black The Cloth In Heavy Wreaths Folds Over Every Nation; Cruel Works Of Many Wheels I View, Wheel Without Wheel, With Cogs Tyrannic Moving By Compulsion Each Other: Not As Those In Eden, Which Wheel Within Wheel In Freedom Revolve, In Harmony & Peace.

The Hours Of Folly Are Measured By The Clock; But Of Wisdom, No Clock Can Measure.

He Loves To Sit And Hear Me Sing, Then, Laughing, Sports And Plays With Me; Then Stretches Out My Golden Wing, And Mocks My Loss Of Liberty.

Excessive Sorrow Laughs. Excessive Joy Weeps.