Row gently here,

    My gondolier,

  So softly wake the tide,

    That not an ear.

    On earth, may hear,

  But hers to whom we glide.

Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well

   As starry eyes to see,

Oh, think what tales 'twould have to tell

   Of wandering youths like me!

    Now rest thee here.

    My gondolier;

  Hush, hush, for up I go,

    To climb yon light

    Balcony's height,

  While thou keep'st watch below.

Ah! did we take for Heaven above

   But half such pains as we

Take, day and night, for woman's love,

   What' Angels we should be.