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The Lake

Edgar Allan Poe 1809 (Boston) – 1849 (Baltimore)

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.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was an American author, poet, editor, and literary critic, considered part of the American Romantic Movement. Poe is best known for his poetry and short stories, particularly his tales of mystery and the macabre. more…

All Edgar Allan Poe poems | Edgar Allan Poe Books

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