Lovecraft, H. P.: To Klarkash-Ton, Lord of Averoigne
To Klarkash-Ton, Lord of Averoigne (Angol)A time-black tower against dim banks of cloud; Around its base the pathless pressing wood. Shadow and silence, moss and mould, pressing wood Grey, age fell'd slabs that once as cromlechs stood, No fall of foot, no song of bird awakes The lethal aisles of sempiternal night Tho' oft with stir of wings the dense air shakes As in the towre there glows a pallid light.
For here, apart, dwells one whose hands have wrought Strange eidola that chill the world with fear; Whose graven runes in tones of dread have taught What things beyond the star-gulfs lurk and leer. Dark Lord of Averiogne – whose windows stare On pits of dream no other gaze could bear!
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