There is snow on the ground,
And the
valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the
world;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of
feastings unhallowed
and old.
There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For
the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sun'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 thick 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.
And mayst thou to such
deeds
Be an abbot and priest,
Singing cannibal greeds
At each
devil-wrought feast,
And to all the incredulous world
shewing dimly the
sign of the beast.
Dark fantasy és sci-fi | Versek |
Levelek | Cikkek | Kritikák | Filozófikus művek | Tudományos művek | Utazás | Életrajzok