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 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 j**elled mine Could teach or bribe me to define Nor Love, although the Love were thine d**h was in that poisonous wave, And in its quit 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