Of The Sayings Of Christ In The

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.

Enough Of Dreams! No Longer Mock The Burdened Hearts Of Men! Not On The Cloud, But On The Rock Build Thou Thy Faith Again; O Range No More The Realms Of Air, Stoop To The Glen-bound Streams; Thy Hope Was All Too Like Despair: Enough, Enough Of Dreams.

Bring The Buds Of The Hazel-copse, Where Two Lovers Kissed At Noon; Bring The Crushed Red Wild-thyme Tops Where They Murmured Under The Moon.

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