I Wish I Was By That Dim Lake.

I wish I was by that dim Lake,[1]     Where sinful souls their farewell take     Of this vain world, and half-way lie     In death's cold shadow, ere they die.     There, there, far from thee,     Deceitful world, my home should be;     Where, come what might of gloom and pain,     False hope should ne'er deceive again.     The lifeless sky, the mournful sound     Of unseen waters falling round;     The dry leaves, quivering o'er my head,     Like man, unquiet even when dead!     These, ay, these shall wean     My soul from life's deluding scene,     And turn each thought, o'ercharged with gloom,     Like willows, downward towards the tomb.     As they, who to their couch at night     Would win repose, first quench the light,     So must the hopes, that keep this breast     Awake, be quenched, ere it can rest.     Cold, cold, this heart must grow,     Unmoved by either joy or woe,     Like freezing founts, where all that's thrown     Within their current turns to stone.