The Lake

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