I float on water, long and slim, In Venice I’m a classic trim. A person rows me with a pole. What am I?

From the Czech Republic, my origins are west, though Prague is the capital known best. A country long forgotten, not tied to Parisian artists of notoriety, for they refused to comply with the rest.

I rest where rivers end their run, yet I do not race beneath the sun. Too wide for pond, too calm for sea, and land surrounds the whole of me.

Deep and blue, I swell and break, Millions drown within my wake. My bed has never needed sleep, I salt the lips of those who weep. Rearranged, you can unpack The very thing that rides my back.

Raising a child takes me, or so they say. That sounds about right, because it's a 'G I V E A L L' job.