Summer’s breath is lightly falling
On the silent waters blue,
And the moonbeams bright are sporting
With the drops of glittering dew;
Hark! away upon the waters
There’s a sound of dipping oar,
And a boat-song loudly chanted,
Echoes down the lake-side shore.
Now the night-bird’s song comes floating
Sweetly down the midnight air,
Waking all the depths, to listen
To the birds that thus should dare
To break the weird and solemn stillness,
That had reign’d so long before,
In the wood, and mead, and valley,
On the silent lake-side shore.
Now the song comes swelling bolder,
And the boatman’s chant is heard,
Louder o’er the distant waters,
As it would outvie the bird;
But each song at last is finish’d,
And the bird to rest once more,
Leaves no sound to break the quiet
Of the happy lake-side shore.
Who can say there is no pleasure
Thus to walk the night alone,
Listening to the night-bird’s music,
Or the boatman’s solemn tone?
Where is there a spot more lovely,
Where the vail of night hangs o’er?
Where another place more lovely
Than this silent lake-side shore?