Here down the live-oak aisles ’tis ours to stray
With wraiths of many a stern conquistador,
Those vanished warriors of an elder day
When gray San Marco bore the brunt of war;
Here we in revery lean
Upon the ramparts beetling o’er the bay,
And watch the shifting scene;—
XII
The boats that dip and dart like living things,
Seeking the open sea beyond the bar;