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Into those clouds the dream-winds
bore me, flowing
Like a chill river through the enfolding haze,
Till far below me, like a monstrous maze,
I glimpsed a gray-walled city dimly glowing.
Gray-litten caverns vast beyond all knowing
Extended mistily before my gaze,
While far beyond the city's tangled ways
I spied a hill of blackness pulsing, growing . . .
I knew that city was Harag-Kolath
Where capering satyrs, in the earth's dark dawn
Once prayed obscenely to Shub-Niggurath,
Great Mother of all things that swarm and spawn.
Then came the beat of drums --- a flute's mad trill ---
As black throngs massed before that pulsing hill.
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