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.