It Is Not The Mere Station Of

Life Is Earnest, Art Is Gay.

When The Measured Dance Of The Hours Brings Back The Happy Smile Of Spring, The Buried Dead Is Born Again In The Life-glance Of The Sun. The Germs Which Perished To The Eye Within The Cold Breast Of The Earth Spring Up With Joy In The Bright Realm Of Day.

The Very Plants Turn With A Joyful Transport To The Light.

Joy Is The Mainspring In The Whole Of Endless Nature's Calm Rotation. Joy Moves The Dazzling Wheels That Roll In The Great Time-piece Of Creation.

If You Would Attain To Your Highest, Go Look Upon A Flower;what The Flower Does Willessly, That Do Willingly.