There is a lake in distant Zan
Beyond the unwanted haunts of man
Walks alone in hideous state
A spirit dead and desolate
A spirit ancient and unholy
Heavy with fearsome melancholy
In that lake
Which from the waters dull and dense
Draws vapours curst with pestilence
Around the banks, a mire of clay
Sprawl things offensive in decay
And curious birds that reach that shore
Are seen by mortals nevermore
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