Gold dovecote by waters, Tender and dazzlingly green; A salt-breeze sweeps away The gondola's narrow wake. Such sensitive, strange eyes in the streets, The bright toys in the shops: A lion with a book, on a lace pillow, A lion with a book, on a marble pillar. As in an ancient, faded canvas, The sky is a cool, dull blue… But one's not crushed in the crowd, Nor stifled in this damp heat.