How lovely is the sound of oars at night 
And unknown voices, borne through windless air, 
From shadowy vessels floating out of sight 
Beyond the harbour lantern's broken glare 
To those piled rocks that make on the dark wave 
Only a darker stain. The splashing oars 
Slide softly on as in an echoing cave 
And with the whisper of the unseen shores 
Mingle their music, till the bell of night 
Murmurs reverberations low and deep 
That droop towards the land in swooning flight 
Like whispers from the lazy lips of sleep. 
The oars grow faint. Below the cloud-dim hill 
The shadows fade and now the bay is still.