No sound of wheels or hoof-beat breaks
       &nbsp The silence of the summer day,
As by the loveliest of all lakes
       &nbsp I while the idle hours away.

I pace the leafy colonnade
       &nbsp Where level branches of the plane
Above me weave a roof of shade
       &nbsp Impervious to the sun and rain.

At times a sudden rush of air
       &nbsp Flutters the lazy leaves o'erhead,
And gleams of sunshine toss and flare
       &nbsp Like torches down the path I tread.

By Somariva's garden gate
       &nbsp I make the marble stairs my seat,
And hear the water, as I wait,
       &nbsp Lapping the steps beneath my feet.

The undulation sinks and swells
       &nbsp Along the stony parapets,
And far away the floating bells
       &nbsp Tinkle upon the fisher's nets.

Silent and slow, by tower and town
       &nbsp The freighted barges come and go,
Their pendent shadows gliding down
       &nbsp By town and tower submerged below.
The hills sweep upward from the shore,
       &nbsp With villas scattered one by one
Upon their wooded spurs, and lower
       &nbsp Bellaggio blazing in the sun.

And dimly seen, a tangled mass
       &nbsp Of walls and woods, of light and shade,
Stands beckoning up the Stelvio Pass
       &nbsp Varenna with its white cascade.

I ask myself, Is this a dream?
       &nbsp Will it all vanish into air?
Is there a land of such supreme
       &nbsp And perfect beauty anywhere?
Sweet vision! Do not fade away;

       &nbsp Linger until my heart shall take
Into itself the summer day,
       &nbsp And all the beauty of the lake.

Linger until upon my brain
       &nbsp Is stamped an image of the scene,
Then fade into the air again,
       &nbsp And be as if thou hadst not been.