Such, Such Were The Joys

To Some People A Tree Is Something So Incredibly Beautiful That It Brings Tears To The Eyes. To Others It Is Just A Green Thing That Stands In The Way.

All Pictures That's Painted With Sense And With Thought / Are Painted By Madmen As Sure As A Groat; / For The Greater The Fool In The Pencil More Blest, / And When They Are Drunk They Always Paint Best.

Some Say That Happiness Is Not Good For Mortals, & They Ought To Be Answered That Sorrow Is Not Fit For Immortals & Is Utterly Useless To Any One; A Blight Never Does Good To A Tree, & If A Blight Kill Not A Tree But It Still Bear Fruit, Let None Say That The Fruit Was In Consequence Of The Blight.

I Have No Name: I Am But Two Days Old. What Shall I Call Thee? I Happy Am, Joy Is My Name. Sweet Joy Befall Thee!

[l]et Light Rise From The Chambers Of The East, And Bring The Honey'd Dew That Cometh On Waking Day. O Radiant Morning.