Italia! O Italia! Thou Who Hast The

This Quiet Sail Is As A Noiseless Wing To Waft Me From Distraction.

But Mighty Nature Bounds As From Her Birth; The Sun Is In The Heavens, And Life On Earth: Flowers In The Valley, Splendor In The Beam, Health On The Gale, And Freshness In The Stream.

Armenian Is The Language To Speak With God.

Dreading That Climax Of All Human Ills The Inflammation Of His Weekly Bills.

Who Then Will Explain The Explanation?