Brightens their blots of brown and red
Or touches on the ocean-rim
Afar, some ochre-tinted sail
Of speeding boat where Chioggians swim
Out to the Adriatic gale.
From pilèd barge that blocks the stream
Some dog at sea-bird wheeling low
Bays; and I hear the madmen scream
In sinister San Servolo.
No other living noise, no cry;