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Fantasy Fan, v. 2, issue 1, whole no. 13, September 1934
Page 8
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8 THE FANTASY FAN, September, 1934 DREAMS of YITH DUANE W. RIMEL VI Amid dim hills that poison mosses blast, Far from the lands and seas of our clean earth, Dread nightmare shadows dance--obscenely cast By twisted talons of archaean birth On rows of slimy pillars stretching past A daemon-fane that echoes with mad mirth. And in that realm sane eyes may never see-- For black light streams from skies of ebony. VII On those queer mountains which hold back the horde That lie in waiting in their mouldy graves, Who groan and mumble to a hidden lord Still waiting for the time-worn key that saves; There dwells a watcher who can ill afford To let invaders by those hoary caves. But some day then may dreamers find the way That leads down elfin-painted paths of gray. VIII And past those unclean spires that ever lean Above the windings of unpeopled streets; And far beyond the walls and silver screen That veils the secrets of those dim retreats, A scarlet pathway leads that some have seen In wildest visions that no mortal greets And down that dimming path in fearful flight Queer beings squirm and hasten in the night. IX High in the ebon skies on scaly wings Dread batlike beasts soar past those towers gray To peer in greedy longing at the things
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8 THE FANTASY FAN, September, 1934 DREAMS of YITH DUANE W. RIMEL VI Amid dim hills that poison mosses blast, Far from the lands and seas of our clean earth, Dread nightmare shadows dance--obscenely cast By twisted talons of archaean birth On rows of slimy pillars stretching past A daemon-fane that echoes with mad mirth. And in that realm sane eyes may never see-- For black light streams from skies of ebony. VII On those queer mountains which hold back the horde That lie in waiting in their mouldy graves, Who groan and mumble to a hidden lord Still waiting for the time-worn key that saves; There dwells a watcher who can ill afford To let invaders by those hoary caves. But some day then may dreamers find the way That leads down elfin-painted paths of gray. VIII And past those unclean spires that ever lean Above the windings of unpeopled streets; And far beyond the walls and silver screen That veils the secrets of those dim retreats, A scarlet pathway leads that some have seen In wildest visions that no mortal greets And down that dimming path in fearful flight Queer beings squirm and hasten in the night. IX High in the ebon skies on scaly wings Dread batlike beasts soar past those towers gray To peer in greedy longing at the things
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