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