A GONDOLA motionless lying
Under the Arsenal wall;
A weary boatman at stern and at bow
Supinely stretched half asleep;
And you with eyes merrily deep
Silent to mine replying,
'Tis sweet to remember how.

We had floated far that day,
That happiest day of all!
The circling silver mountain-rim
Shut us safe from the world away;
Though eyes we loved were hurt and dim,
There came to us nor cry nor call,
Where, idle-oared, content we lay
Under the Arsenal wall.

On the ripple a quivering crescent
Tossed like a tortured thing,
But, far above, serene,
It hung in the curve of the sky;
At our prow was the gentle, incessant
Sound of the waves' caress,
Impelled by the light breath wandering by
From some ocean god unseen
In his palace of idleness;
And ever from two bell-towers
Rang out the quarter-hours,
In broken harmonies
Like the changes in a chaunt:
Sounds to stay in one's ears and haunt
One's dreams with perplexing memories.

Shoreward or seaward making,
The boats passed lazily;
We watched one golden sail that flew
(Its fellow-flock forsaking)
Before our eyes like a butterfly,
Afar where the sea-breeze fresher grew;
How it seemed to beckon from out the blue
Of the mystical, deepening southern sky,
Till we longed to follow, we two!

The fair day loitered to its close,
The boatmen awakened, the play-time was done;
The wide air turned to gold and rose,
And where we watched a passing rower,
We saw the water run
Drop by drop from his gleaming oar,
Opal and pearl and amethyst.

Eastward and westward grew the light;
San Marco's domes were floating mist;
The Campanile's slender height
Stood pale against one purple cloud,
Down which the sun dropped suddenly,
Piercing it through with a golden shaft.
We were silent now, none spoke nor laughed;
Only the bells anon rang loud,
Ever repeating to you and to me:
" The story is ended, the dream is o'er,
You may carry away beyond the sea
A picture, and nothing more. "

And yet, might the dream of a dream avail,
'T were good to dream it over again;
To forget the years that lie between,
To be careless of heart as then;
To see the glow of that warm rose light,
Feel the hush of that air serene;
Once more down the silvery, far lagoon,
Under opal sky and crescent moon,
To follow that golden sail.