| In spring of youth it was my lot
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| To haunt of the wide world a spot
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| The which I could not love the less
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| So lovely was the loneliness
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| Of a wild lake, with black rock bound
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| And the tall pines that towered around
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| But when the Night had thrown her pall
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| Upon that spot, as upon all
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| And the mystic wind went by
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| Murmuring in melody
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| Then ah then I would awake
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| To the terror of the lone lake
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| Yet that terror was not fright
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| But a tremulous delight
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| A feeling not the jewelled mine
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| Could teach or bribe me to define
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| Nor Love--although the Love were thine
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| Death was in that poisonous wave
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| And in its gulf a fitting grave
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| For him who thence could solace bring
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| To his lone imagining
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| Whose solitary soul could make
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| An Eden of that dim lake
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| Of a wild lake, with black rock’s around’s you
|
| And the tall pines that towered around
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| No more love, no more pain to
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| To define
|
| And the mystic wind went by
|
| Then ah then I would awake
|
| An Eden of that dim lake (x2)
|
| And the mystic wind went by
|
| Murmuring in melody
|
| Then--ah then I would awake
|
| To the terror of the lone lake
|
| And the mystic wind went by
|
| Murmuring in melody
|
| Then--ah then I would awake
|
| To the terror of the lone lake |