Some sunny, summer yesterdays,
Where Nature's beauty still beguiles,
I saw the storied yellow sail
And lifted prow of steely mail.
'Tis all that's left Torcello now,—
A pirate's yellow sail, a prow.
Below the far, faint peaks of snow,
And grass-grown causeways well below,
I touched Torcello.
Once a-land,