THE
POETRY OF
H. P. LOVECRAFT
A COLLECTION
ODE TO
SELENE OR DIANA
Immortal Moon, in maiden splendour shine.
Dispense thy beams, divine Latonaās child.
Thy silver rays all grosser things define,
And hide harsh truth in sweet illusion mild.
In thy soft light, the city of unrest
That stands so squalid in thy brotherās glare
Throws off its habit, and in silence blest
Becomes a vision, sparkling bright and fair.
The modern world, with all itās care & pain,
The smoky streets, the hideous clanging mills,
Face āneath thy beams, Selene, and again
We dream like shepherds on ChaldƦaās hills.
Take heed, Diana, of my humble plea.
Convey me where my happiness may last.
Draw me against the tide of timeās rough sea
And let my sprirt rest amid the past.
First published in
The Tryout, April 1919
ON RECEIVING
A PICTURE OF SWANS
With pensive grace the melancholy Swan
Mourns oāer the tomb of luckless PhaĆ«ton;
On grassy banks the weeping poplars wave,
And guard with tender care the watāry grave.
Would that I might, should I too proudly claim
An Heavānly parent, or a Godlike fame,
When flown too high, and dashād to depths below,
Receive such tribute as a Cygnusā woe!
The faithful bird, that dumbly floats along,
Sighs all the deeper for his want of song.
First published in
The Conservative, January 1916
TO THE OLD
PAGAN RELIGION
Olympian gods! How can I let ye go
And pin my faith to this new Christian creed?
Can I resign the deities I know
For him who on a cross for man did bleed?
How in my weakness can my hopes depend
On one lone God, though mighty be his powār?
Why can Joveās host no more assistance lend,
To soothe my pain, and cheer my troubled hour?
Are there no Dryads on these wooded mounts
Oāer which I oft in desolation roam?
Are there no Naiads in these crystal founts?
Nor Nereids upon the Ocean foam?
Fast spreads the new; the older faith declines.
The name of Christ resounds upon the air.
But my wrackād soul in solitude repines
And gives the Gods their last-receivĆØd prayār.
First published in
The Tryout, April 1919
UNDA
OR,
THE BRIDE OF THE SEA
Respectfully
Dedicated with Permission to
Maurice Winter Moe, Esq.
A Dull, Dark, Drear, Dactylic Delirium
in Sixteen Silly, Senseless, Sickly Stanzas
āEgo, canus, lunam cano.ā
ā Maevius Bavianus
Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me;
Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
Dim are the pathways and rocks that remind me
Sadly of years in the lost nevermore.
Soft laps the ocean on wave-polishād boulder;
Sweet is the sound and familiar to me.
Here, with her head gently bent to my shoulder,
Walkād I with Unda, the Bride of the Sea.
Bright was the morn of my youth when I met her,
Sweet as the breeze that blew in oāer the brine.
Swift was I capturād in Loveās strongest fetter,
Glad to be hers, and she glad to be mine.
Never a question askād I where she wanderād,
Never a question askād she of my birth:
Happy as children, we thought not nor ponderād,
Glad with the bounty of ocean and earth.
Once when the moonlight playād soft āmid the billows,
High on the cliff oāer the waters...