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 trees that towered around
But when the night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all
And the wind would pass me by
In its stilly melody -
My infant spirit
To the terror of the lone lake
Yet that terror was not fright
But a tremulous delight -
And a feeling undefined
Springing from a darkened mind
Death was in that poisonous wave
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his dark imagining -
Whose wildering thought could even make
An Eden of that dim lake
