The poem
Green sea-tarnished copper And sea-tarnished gold Of cupolas.
Sea-runnelled streets Channelled by salt air That wears the white stone.
The sunlight-filled cistern Of a dry-dock. Square shadows. Sun-slatted smoke above meticulous stooping of cranes.
Water pressed up by ships' prows Going, coming.
City dust turned Back by the sea-wind's Wall.