The Lake

In youth's spring, it was my lot
To haunt of the wide earth a spot
To 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 would awake
To the terror of the lone lake
My infant spirit would awake
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 poisoned 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.

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 would awake
To the terror of the lone lake
My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lone lake
My infant spirit would awake
To the terror of the lake.

Springing from a darkened mind
So lovely was the loneliness
In youth's spring, it was my lot
In its stilly melody.

An Eden of that dim lake
An Eden of that dim lake
Lone, lone, lonely
Lone, lone, lonely
Lone, lone, lonely.