Deep in the sea The countless finny race and monster brood Tranquil repose.

Even the busy bee Forgets her daily toil.

The silent wood No more with noisy hum of insect rings; And all the feathered tribe, by gentle sleep subdued, Roost in the glade and hang their drooping wings." -- Translation by Colonel Mure.
"Now, dearest, where is my kiss ?" "I had forgotten it in listening, just as before I forgot to listen in kissing." "You are too bad.

But tell me, is not my song lovely ?" "Yes, beautiful, like everything else you sing." "And the Greek poets write ?" "Yes, there you are right too, I admit." "Are there no poets in Persia ?" "How can you ask such a question?
How could a nation, who despised song, pretend to any nobility of feeling ?" "But you have some very bad customs." "Well ?" "You take so many wives." "My Sappho.

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