Poem Hunter
The Lake
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849 / Boston)

The Lake

Poem By 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.

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Comments (5)

...an amazing write, and so dark...actually gives the reader something to contemplate ★
wow lovely poem indeed. nice rhyme
Stunning work as every Poe work be...~FjR~
Awesome Poe as usual!
im sorry if you get this message more than once, i rememered this poem differently? Did you modernize it for this post, or have i gone crazy?