Sonnet (Henry Timrod)
Fate! seek me out some lake, far off and lone,
Shut in by wooded hills that steeply rise,
And beautiful 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---there left by hands unknown---
A bark, with rifted sides and threadbare sail,
Just strong enough to bear me from the shore,
But not to reach its tree-girt harbor more.
O happy, happy rest! O world of wail!
How calmly I would tempt the peaceful deep,
And sink with smiling brow into the dreamless Sleep.