“We passage-fowl that cross the sea
Have vast advantages o’er you;
Whose native woods are all you view.
The season past, I took a jaunt
Among the isles of the Levant;
Where, by the way, I stuff’d my guts
With almonds and pistachio nuts.
’Twas then my whim some weeks to be
In that choice garden, Italy:
But, underneath the sky’s expanse,