Author Lew Sarett A LONELY lake, a lonely shore,A lone pine leaning on the moon;All night the water-beating wingsOf a solitary loon.With mournful wail from dusk to dawnHe gibbered at the taunting stars—A hermit-soul gone raving mad,And beating at his bars. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 3 (4 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments