Strange fitful freaks of colour, hot and cold;
A picturesque low bridge, with life replete,
As figures, gaily dight, pass to and fro.
A mass of cool grey shadow—rising thence,
Behold the fabric of some grand old church,
With blue-faced clock, whose blurred gold figures show
The hour of our luncheon draweth nigh;
Beyond a glint of silver light shows where
The Canalazzo sparkles in the sun;
And, over all, a deep blue sky 'gainst which