The Lake
Again I see my bliss at hand;
The town, the lake are here.
My Marguerite smiles upon the strand
Unalter’d with the year.
I know that graceful figure fair,
That cheek of languid hue;
I know that soft enkerchief’d hair,
And those sweet eyes of blue.
Again I spring to make my choice;
Again in tones of ire
I hear a God’s tremendous voice—
‘Be counsell’d, and retire!’
Ye guiding Powers, who join and part,
What would ye have with me?
Ah, warn some more ambitious heart,
And let the peaceful be!
Published 1852
