The Dogaressa
Upon the marble porticos all these
Great lords converse who live through Titian's lore,
And whose rich collars, weighing marc or more,
Enhance their red dalmatic draperies.
With eyes where shine patrician dignities,
The old lagoons they look serenely o'er,
Beneath clear skies of Venice, to the shore
And sparkling azure of the Adrian seas.
And while in brilliant throng full many a Knight
Trails gold and purple by the stairs of white,
Bathed in cerulean sheen all joys constrain;
Indolent, superb, a Dame, retired in shade,
Turning half round in billows of brocade,
Smiles at the negro boy who bears her train.
Great lords converse who live through Titian's lore,
And whose rich collars, weighing marc or more,
Enhance their red dalmatic draperies.
With eyes where shine patrician dignities,
The old lagoons they look serenely o'er,
Beneath clear skies of Venice, to the shore
And sparkling azure of the Adrian seas.
And while in brilliant throng full many a Knight
Trails gold and purple by the stairs of white,
Bathed in cerulean sheen all joys constrain;
Indolent, superb, a Dame, retired in shade,
Turning half round in billows of brocade,
Smiles at the negro boy who bears her train.
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