Ah, Nut-brown Partridges! Ah, Brilliant Pheasants! And

He Makes A Solitude, And Calls It - Peace!

In Hope To Merit Heaven By Making Earth A Hell.

My Beautiful, My Own My Only Venice-this Is Breath! Thy Breeze Thine Adrian Sea-breeze, How It Fans My Face! Thy Very Winds Feel Native To My Veins, And Cool Them Into Calmness!

I've Seen Your Stormy Seas And Stormy Women, And Pity Lovers Rather More Than Seamen.

Socrates Said, Our Only Knowledge Was "to Know That Nothing Could Be Known;" A Pleasant Science Enough, Which Levels To An Ass Each Man Of Wisdom, Future, Past, Or Present. Newton, (that Proverb Of The Mind,) Alas! Declared, With All His Grand Discoveries Recent, That He Himself Felt Only "like A Youth Picking Up Shells By The Great Ocean-truth."