Friday, March 19, 2010

The Lake - Edgar Allan Poe

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.

4 comments:

Maree said...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5L9YWSYpZZA

SeaBee said...

I love this poem and I love Edgar All Poe! Thank you for posting it!

McDishy said...

I really like what you're posting. Keep it up, and thanks for sharing!

Moonlight said...

Wonderful poem :)Greetings!