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Poem by H.P. Lovecraft

lyrics

There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen
hints of feastings un-hallowed and old.

There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sin's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance
round a Yule- altar fungous and white.

To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the sick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark,
from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.

credits

from Through The Entrails Of Darkness​.​.​. To The Cosmic Awakening, released May 17, 2018
Screams: Confetior Atratus (Funeral Noise Terror)

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all rights reserved

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