Barcarolle

W.H. Auden and Chester Kallman (from The Rake's Progress)

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Gently, little boat

Across the waters float,

Their crystal waves dividing;

       The sun in the west

       Is going to rest:

                     Glide, glide, glide,

Towards the Islands of the Blest.

 

Orchards greenly grace

That undisturbed place,

The wearied soul recalling

       To slumber and dream,

       While many a stream

                            Falls, falls, falls,

Descanting on a child-like theme.