Beauty, the smile of God, Music, His voice..

In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge. A coin unsordid as a bond of love-- And, with the instinct of the homing dove, I gave to Rome my rendezv….

He is likely to remain the one historian of the Sierra; he imported into his view the imagination of the poet and the reverence of the worshipper....….

They know who keep a broken tryst, Till something from the Spring be missed We have not truly known the Spring..