Hark to the gondolier singing,
Dreamily, dreamily singing,
Ever guiding our languid gondola
Out on the fair lagoon.
Lo, how the pigeons are winging,
Airily, airily winging,
Blending coos in our idle revery
Out on the fair lagoon.
Now is the gondolier calling,
Warningly, warningly calling;
Hark—the answer—from turning shadowy,
Where the dark waters wind.
Now we emerge in a glory,
Radiant, radiant glory;
Campanile and dome rise magical
Out of the Grand Canal.
Every wall has a story,
Passionate, passionate story,—
O'er the song of the gondolier hovering,
Out on the Grand Canal.
Gardens above us are leaning,
Drowsily, drowsily leaning;
Never water and sky so heavenly,
Sung by a gondolier.
Ever and aye in our dreaming,
Far-away, far-away dreaming,
We'll remember this golden Italy,
Sung by a gondolier.