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
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And the mystic wind went by, murmuring in melody. Then- ah, then I would awake, to the terror of the lone lake. Death was in that poisonous wave, and in it's 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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Solitary Soul
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| Ancestral Legacy |
