Night
Suddenly kindling the skylight's pitchy square
The eyes of a cat, sinister; glassy, and green,
Caught by a trick of the light in a senseless stare. …
And the powers of the older night, abhorrent, obscene,
Each from his den of darkness and loathly lair,
Slink to my bedside and gibber and mow and fill
My heart with the Fear of the Fen and the Dread of the Hill,
And the Terror that steals by night through the Wood of Doom
And things that are headless and nameless throng my room—
The cold webbed fingers of witches are in my hair;
The clammy lips of the warlock are clenched to mine;
The eel of the bottomless pit of Deadman's Bog
Slithers, an icy spiral, about my spine;
A corpse-clutch freezes my midriff; the foul reek of Fog. . . .
When my hand is licked by the warm wet tongue of my dog;
The eyes blink out, and Horror slinks back to her den,
And I breathe again.
The eyes of a cat, sinister; glassy, and green,
Caught by a trick of the light in a senseless stare. …
And the powers of the older night, abhorrent, obscene,
Each from his den of darkness and loathly lair,
Slink to my bedside and gibber and mow and fill
My heart with the Fear of the Fen and the Dread of the Hill,
And the Terror that steals by night through the Wood of Doom
And things that are headless and nameless throng my room—
The cold webbed fingers of witches are in my hair;
The clammy lips of the warlock are clenched to mine;
The eel of the bottomless pit of Deadman's Bog
Slithers, an icy spiral, about my spine;
A corpse-clutch freezes my midriff; the foul reek of Fog. . . .
When my hand is licked by the warm wet tongue of my dog;
The eyes blink out, and Horror slinks back to her den,
And I breathe again.
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