Spawn of the cellars, rising black, Midst darkened doorways, out a crack; To wither each bright blade of grass, And smother flying souls that pass. Spawns of the cellars; evil slime; Heed not their calling, lest they climb As rays of light upon thy face, And steal thy spirit's resting place. Wraiths of corruption, creep not in; For though their minds be steeped in sin, They hold a germ of terror yet, That baffles every evil met. Seed of the tombstone, enter now; Their house is darkened to the mow. Your chance has come to right the wrong, That you have waited all too long. Spawn of the cellars, rising fast, To seek the hell-hounds out at last: They cloudlike through the window creep, On those who sprawl in drunken sleep. Dread putrefactions, find your breed; That you may pay that awful deed; That you may spread your bloating jaws, And sap their entrails through your maws. Germ of corruption, speed ye fast. A thing is rising to its last; For greedy claws to grip around, And carry back to that mouldy mound. Spawn of the cellars, get ye back To gulfs of darkness where no track, Can trace you to that worming brood; Or toss your bones in darkened mood. Seed of the tombstone, floating black, Back to the cellar through that crack. And beings stare with sightless eyes, Down black steps where a brother lies. * * * * * THE ALIEN by Natalie H. Wooley She is like living golden flame. She knows not whence or why she came Into this world ... and yet at times I hear her call strange gods by name. There is no warmth in her embrace, Of human passions not a trace. She seems remote, a thing attuned To summonings from outer space. And on each starry, moonlit night She gazes long in rapt delight Toward the skies ... while I weep Lest the message come, and she take flight. * * * * * VOICES OF THE NIGHT by Robert E. Howard 2. Babel Now in the gloom the pulsing drums repeat, And all the night is filled with evil sound; I hear the throbbing of inhuman feet On marble stairs that silence locks around. I see black temples loom against the night, With tentacles like serpents writhed afar, And waving in a dusky dragon light Great moths whose wings unholy tapers char. Red memory on memory, tier on tier, Builds up a tower, time and space to span; Through world on world I rise, and sphere on sphere, To star-shot gulfs of lunacy and fear-- Black screaming ages never dreamed by man.