In Itself A Thought, A Slumbering Thought

Come What May, I Have Been Blest.

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 Have A Great Mind To Believe In Christianity For The Mere Pleasure Of Fancying I May Be Damned.

Earth! Render Back From Out Thy Breast A Remnant Of Our Spartan Dead! Of The Three Hundred Grant But Three, To Make A New Thermopylæ!

So Sweet The Blush Of Bashfulness, E'en Pity Scarce Can Wish It Less!