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[page 64:]
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5.
THE LAKE — TO —
1
In youth's spring 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 tower'd around:
But when the night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot — as upon all,
And the black wind murmur'd by,
In a dirge of melody —
My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.
2
Yet that terror was not fright —
But a tremulous delight —
A feeling not the jewell'd mine
Should ever bribe me to define —
Nor Love — altho' the Love be thine: [page 65:]
3
Death was in that poison'd wave —
And, in it's [[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. |
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