Every Truth Passes Through Three Stages
Before It''s Recognized
In The First It''s Ridiiculed
In The Second It''s Opposed
In The Third, It''s Regarded As Self Evident . . .
There Is A Garden In Her Face,
Where Roses And White Lilies Blow;
A Heavenly Paradise Is That Place,
Wherein All Pleasant Fruits Do Grow.
There Cherries Grow That None May Buy,
Till Cherry Ripe Themselves Do Cry
God Has Created The Heavens With Constellations
Like Pearls On A Dark Steed.
The Light Ov The Sun Hides Them In The Day
&
All The Knowledge Of Them Is Divined In The Darkness Of night . . .
