1827

THE LAKE. TO __

by Edgar Allan Poe

THE LAKE. TO __ -

In spring of youth it was my lot

To haunt of the wide world a spot

The which I could not love the less-

So lovely was the loneliness

Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,

And the tall pines that towered around. -

But when the Night had thrown her pall

Upon that spot, as upon all,

And the mystic wind went by

Murmuring in melody-

Then- ah then I would awake

To the terror of the lone lake. -

Yet that terror was not fright,

But a tremulous delight-

A feeling not the jewelled mine

Could teach or bribe me to define-

Nor Love- although the Love were thine. -

Death was in that poisonous wave,

And in its gulf a fitting grave

For him who thence could solace bring

To his lone imagining-

Whose solitary soul could make

An Eden of that dim lake. - -