Hallowe’en in a Suburb
The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,And the trees have a silver glare;Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,And the harpies of upper air,That flutter and laugh and stare. For the village dead to the moon outspreadNever shone in the sunset’s gleam,But grew out of the deep that the dead years keepWhere the rivers of madness streamDown the gulfs to a pit of dream. A chill wind weaves through the rows of sheavesIn the meadows that shimmer pale,And comes to twine where the headstones shineAnd the ghouls of the churchyard wailFor harvests that fly and fail. Not a breath of the strange grey gods of changeThat tore from the past its ownCan quicken this hour, when a spectral powerSpreads sleep o’er the cosmic throne,And looses the vast unknown. So here again stretch the vale and plainThat moons long-forgotten saw,And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,Sprung out of the tomb’s black mawTo shake all the world with awe. And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,The ugliness and the pestOf rows where thick rise the stones and brick,Shall some day be with the rest,And brood with the shades unblest. Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,And the leprous spires ascend;For new and old alike in the foldOf horror and death are penned,For the hounds of Time to rend. CREDIT : H. P. Lovecraft Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.