Night-Gaunts

Over the jagged peaks of Thok they sweep
Heedless of all the cries I try to make
And down the nether pits to that foul lake
Where the puffed shoggoths splash in doubtful sleep
And down the nether pits to that foul lake
Where the puffed shoggoths splash in doubtful sleep

But ho! If only they would make some sound
Or wear a face where faces should be found!

But ho! If only they would make some sound
Or wear a face where faces should be found!

Out of what crypt they crawl, I cannot tell
But every night I see the rubbery things
Black, horned, and slender, with membranous wings
They come in legions on the north wind's swell

With obscene clutch that titillates and stings
Snatching me off on monstrous voyaging's
To grey worlds hidden deep in nightmare's well
In nightmare's well

But ho! If only they would make some sound
Or wear a face where faces should be found!

But ho! If only they would make some sound
Or wear a face where faces should be found!