Fate! seek me out some lake far off and lone,
Shut in by hills of green and gradual rise,
And beautified with blue inverted skies--
Where not a breeze but comes with softened tone.
And if the waves awake, they only moan
With a low lulling music, like the rills
That make their home among those happy hills;
And let me find--left there by hands unknown--
A bark with mouldering sides and rifted sail,
Just strong enough to bear me from the shore,
But not to reach its tree-girt harbour more--
Oh, happy, happy rest! oh, world of wail!
How calmly I would tempt the peaceful deep,
And sink to death, as if I sank to sleep.