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ISFDB.org Magazine Entry



Weird Tales

JULY, 1952

Alethia Phrikodes

By H. P. LOVECRAFT

Omnia risus et omnis pulris et omna nihil.

DEMONIAC clouds, up-piled in chasmy reach
Of soundless heaven, smothered the brooding night;
Nor came the wonted whisperings of the swamp,
Nor voice of autumn wind along the moor,
Nor muttered noises of the insomnious grove
Whose black recesses never saw the sun.
Within that grove a hideous hollow lies,
Half bare of trees; a pool in centre lurks
That none dares sound; a tarn of murky face,
(Though naught can prove its hue, since light of day,
Affrighted, shuns the forest-shadowed banks.)
Hard by, a yawning hillside grotto breathes
From deeps unvisited, a dull, dank air
That sears the leaves on certain stunted trees
Which stand about, clawing the spectral gloom
With evil boughs. To this accursed dell
Come woodland creatures, seldom to depart:
Once I beheld, upon a crumbling stone
Set altar-like before the cave, a thing
I saw not clearly, yet from glimpsing, fled.
In this half-dusk I meditate alone
At many a weary noontide, when without
A world forgets me in its sun-blest mirth.
Here howl by night ...

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