102
Sunday up the River.
I to row and you to steer,
Gay must be Life's trip, my dear;
You to steer and I to row,
All is bright where'er we go.
A secret bower where we can hide
In lustrous shadow lonely;
The crystal floor may lap and glide
To rock our dreaming only.
I to row and you to steer,
Gay must be Life's trip, my dear;
You to steer and I to row,
All is bright where'er we go.
VI.
This strenuous toil of boating:
Our skiff beneath the willow lies
Half stranded and half floating.
As I lie, as I lie,
Glimpses dazzle of the blue and burning sky;
As you lean, as you lean,
Faerie Princess of the secret faerie scene.
