excerpts

TO THE LAKE 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.
Edgar allen poe
October/31/1840
U.S


A Green Cornfield The earth was green, the sky was blue: I saw and heard one sunny morn A skylark hang between the two, A singing speck above the corn; A stage below, in gay accord, White butterflies danced on the wing, And still the singing skylark soared, And silent sank and soared to sing. The cornfield stretched a tender green To right and left beside my walks; I knew he had a nest unseen Somewhere among the million stalks. And as I paused to hear his song While swift the sunny moments slid, Perhaps his mate sat listening long, And listened longer than I did.
Christina Rossetti
6/2/1853
England