The flood, those massy hulls, or thou?
(How light we go, how softly! Ah,
Where life but as the gondola!)
How light we go, how soft we skim,
And all in moonlight seem to swim!
In moonlight is it now, or shade?
In planes of sure division made,
By angles sharp of palace walls
The clear light and the shadow falls;
O sight of glory, sight of wonder!