The Lake

Valentine Wolfe
Valentine Wolfe


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 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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