VI

Amid dim hills that poison mosses blast,

Far from the lands and seas of our clean earth,

Dread nightmare shadows dance--obscenely cast

By twisted talons of archaean birth

On rows of slimy pillars stretching past

A daemon-fane that echoes with mad mirth.

And in that realm sane eyes may never see--

For black light streams from skies of ebony.

The Fantasy Fan , Volume 2, Number 1, September 1934 The Fan's Own Magazine · 第 13 / 26 题