The LakeEdgar Allan Poe – 1809-1849 In youth’s spring it was my lotTo haunt, of the wide earth a spotThe which I could not love the less,So lovely was the lonelinessOf a wild lake, with black rock bound,And the tall pines that tower’d around. But, when the night had thrown her pallUpon that spot, as upon all,And the mystic wind went byMurmuring in melody -Then – ah then I would awakeTo the terror of the lone lake. Yet that terror was not fright.But a tremulous delight – A feeling not the jewelled mineCould teach or bribe me to define -Nor Love – although the Love were thine. Death was in that poison’d wave —And, in its gulf, a fitting graveFor him who thence could solace bringTo his lone imagining -Whose solitary soul could makeAn Eden of that dim lake. https://youtu.be/3OKdS85iPo4 You might enjoy our post Evening Star Written by Edgar Allan…