Classic Poem

Oh, loose the boat and ply the oar,
And let us drift forever
Adown this blue enameled floor,
This happy, flowing river.

The shore unwinds a ribbon green;
The hills smoke blue and tender,
And far away tall spires between
Are touched with flying splendor.

The sweet wind travels just our way,
Contented to remind us
Of clover-fields and new-mown hay
Left far enough behind us.

And now and then, so faintly heard,
Sweet sounds come trembling over,
Of pealing bell and singing bird,
Of screaming gull or plover.

The sunbeam sees itself below,
Reflected in the river—
So, dearest, in my heart, you know,
You are reflected ever!