LET YOUR DREAMS GIVE YOU FLIGHT
MAY THE MOUNTAINS TREMBLE
FISHERMAN
FREDERICK THE FISH
CAUGHT
DEATH OF FREDERICK THE FISH
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
EDGAR ALLAN POE
