The Fungi from Yuggoth by H. P. Lovecraft I. The Book Published October, 1934 in "The Fantasy Fan" The place was dark and dusty and half-lost In tangles of old alleys near the quays, Reeking of strange thing brought in from the seas, And with queer curls of fog that west winds tossed, Small lozenge panes obscured by smoke and frost, Just showed the books, in piles like twisted trees, Rotting from floor to roof-congeries Of crumbling elder lore at little cost. I entered, charmed, and from a cobwebbed heap Took up the nearest tome and thumbed it through, Trembling at curious words that seemed to keep Some secret, monstrous if only one knew Then, looking for some seller old in craft, I could find nothing but a voice that laughed. II. Pursuit Published October, 1934 in "The Fantasy Fan" I held the book beneath my coat, at pains To hide the thing from sight in such a place; Hurrying through the ancient harbour lanes With often-turning head and nervous oace. Dull, furtive windows in old tottering brick Peered at me oddly as I hastened by, And thinking what they sheltered, I grew sick For a redeeming glimpse of clear blue sky. No one had seen me take the thing-but still A blank laugh echoes in my whirling head, And I could guess what nighted worlds of ill Lurked in that volume I had coveted. The way grew strange-the walls alike and madding- And ar behind me, unseen feet were padding. III. The Key Published January, 1935 in "The Fantasy Fan" I do not know what windings in the waste Of thos strange sea-lanes brought me home once more But on my porch I trembled, white with haste To get inside and bolt the heavy door I had the book that old the hidden way Across the void and through the space-hung screens That hold the undimensional worlds at bay And keep lost aeons to their own demesnes. At last the key was mine to those vague visions Of sunset spires and twilight woods that boord Dim in the gulfs beyond this earth's precisions Lurking as memories of infinitude The key was mine, but as I sat there mumbling The attic window shook with a faint fumbling. IV. Recognition Published December, 1936 in "Driftwind" The day had come again, when as a child I saw-just once- that hollow of old oaks, Grey with a ground-mist that enfolds and chokes The slinking shapes which madness has defiled In that the same-an herbage rank and wild Clings round an altar whose carved signs involve That Nameless One to whom a thousand smokes Rose, aeons gone, from unclean towers up-piled. I saw the body spread on that dank stone, And knew those things which feasted were not men; I knew this strange, grey world was not my own, But Yuggoth, past the starry voids-and then The body shrieked at me with a dead cry, And all too late I knew that it was I! V. Homecoming Published January, 1935 in "The Fantasy Fan" The daemon said that he would take me home To the pale, shadowy land I half-recalled As a high place of stair and terrace, walled With marble balustrades that sky-winds comb, While miles below a maze of dome on dome And tower on tower beside a sea lies sprawled. Once more, he told me, I would stand enthralled On those old heights, and hear the far-off foam. All this he promised, and through sunset's gate He swept me, past the lapping lakes of Flame, And red-gold thrones of gods without a name Who shriek in fear at some impending fate Then a black gulf with sea-sounds in the night" "Here was your home," he mocked, "when you had sight!" VI. The Lamp Published March, 1931 in "Driftwind" We found the lamp inside those hollow cliffs Whose chiselled sign no priest in Thebes could read, And from whose caverns frightened hieroglyphs Warned every living creature of earth's breed. No more was there-just that one brazen bowl With traces of a curious oil within; Fretted wtih some obscurely patterned scroll And symbols hinting vaguely of strange sin. Little the fears of forty centuris meant To us as we bore off our slender spoil And when we scanned it in our darkened tent We struck a match to test the ancient oil It blazed-Great God!. . . But the vast shapes we saw In that mad flash have seared our lives with awe. VII. Zaman's Hill Published October, 1934 in "Driftwind" The great hill hung close over the old town A precipice against the main street's end Green, tall, and wooded, looking darkly down Upon the steeple at the highway bend Two hundred years the whispers had been heard About what happened on the man-shunned slope Thales of an oddly mangled dear or bird Or of lost boys whose kin had ceased to hope One day the mail-man found no village there Nor were its folks or house seen again People came out of Aylesbury to state Yet they all told the mail-man it was plain That he was mad for saying he had spied The great hill's gluttonous eyes, and jaws stretched wide VIII. The Port Published November, 1930 in "Driftwind" Ten miles from Arkham I had struck the trail That rides the cliff-edge over Boynton Beach, And hoped that just at asunset I could reach The crest tht looks on Innsmouth in the vale. Far out at sea was a retreating sail White as hard years of ancient winds could bleach But evil with some portent byeond speech So that I did not wave my hand or hail. Sails out of Innsmouth! Echoing old renown Of long-dead times, but now a too-swift night Is closing in, and I have reached the height Whence I so often scan the distant town The spires and roofs are there-but look! The gloom Sinks on dark lanes, as lightless as the tomb! IX. The Courtyard Published September, 1930 in "Weird Tales" It was the city I had known before; The ancient, leprous town where mongrel throngs Chant to strange gods, and beat unhallowed gongs In crypts beneath foul alleys near the shor. The rotting, fish-eyed houses leered at me From where they leaned, drunk and half-animate, As edging through the filth I passed the gate To the black courtyard where the man would be. The dark walls closed me in, and loud I cursed That ever I had come to such a den, When suddenly a score of windows burst Into wild light, and swarmed with dancing men: Mad, soundless revels of the dragging dead- And not a corpse had either hands or head! X. The Pigeon-Flyers Published January, 1947 in "Weird Tales" They took me slumming, where gaunt walls of brick Bulge outward with s viscous stored-up evil And twisted faces, thronging foul and thick Wink messages to alien god and devil A million fires were blazing in the streets And from flat roofs a furtive few would fly Bedraggled birds into the yawning sky While hidden drums droned on with measured beats. I knew those fires where brewing monstrous things, And that those birds of space has been Outside- I guessed to what dark planet's crypts they plied and what they brought from Thog beneath their wings The others laughed-till struck too mute to speak By what they glimpsed in one bird's evil beak. XI. The Well Published May 14, 1930 in "The Providence Journal" Farmer Seth Atwood was past eight when He tried to sink that deep well by his door With only Eb to help him bore and bore We laughed, and hoped he'd soon be sane again And yet, instead, young Eb went crazy, too, So that they shipped him to the county farm Seth bricked up the well-mouth up as tight as glue- Then hacked an artery in his gnarled left arm. After the funeral we felt bound to get Out to that well and rip the bricks away But all we saw were iron handholds set Down a black hole deeper than we could say And yet we put the bricks back-for we found The hole too deep for any line to sound. XII. The Howler Published November, 1932 in "Driftwind" They told me not to take the Briggs' Hill path That used to be the highroad through to Zoar, For Goody Watkins, hanged in seventeen-four, Had left a certain monstrous aftermath. Yet when I disobeyed, and had in view The vine-hung cottage by the great rock slope, I could not think of elms or hempen rope, But wondered why the house still seemed so new. Stopping a while to watch the fading day, I heard faint howls, as from a room upstairs, When through the ivied panes one sunset ray Struck in, and caught the howler unawares. I glimpsed - and ran in frenzy from the place, And from a four-pawed thing with human face.