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Fantasy Fan, v. 2, issue 3, whole no. 15, November 1934
Page 47
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November, 1934, THE FANTASY FAN 47 The guttering stars are wild as candle-flames That near the socket. Thus the land shall be, And Death shall wait, throned in Medusa's eyes, Till, in the irremeable webs of night, The sun is snared, and the corroded moon A dust upon the gulfs, and all the stars Rotted and fallen like rivets from the sky, Letting the darkness down upon all things. MALANOTH (To Clark Ashton Smith) by R. O. P. Where is the ancient hidden sphere Where Malanoth is king? What silhouetted towers rear And on the heavens cling? Above the wall that shows no gate The mighty columns loom; Mysterious wonder incarnate Where slumbers ancient doom. Beyond the myriad whirling moons That circle through the skies-- A place described in evil runes, The awesome kingdom lies. And Malanoth, is striped face And obscure and pondering Thinks always in that silent place Of some old, secret thing.
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November, 1934, THE FANTASY FAN 47 The guttering stars are wild as candle-flames That near the socket. Thus the land shall be, And Death shall wait, throned in Medusa's eyes, Till, in the irremeable webs of night, The sun is snared, and the corroded moon A dust upon the gulfs, and all the stars Rotted and fallen like rivets from the sky, Letting the darkness down upon all things. MALANOTH (To Clark Ashton Smith) by R. O. P. Where is the ancient hidden sphere Where Malanoth is king? What silhouetted towers rear And on the heavens cling? Above the wall that shows no gate The mighty columns loom; Mysterious wonder incarnate Where slumbers ancient doom. Beyond the myriad whirling moons That circle through the skies-- A place described in evil runes, The awesome kingdom lies. And Malanoth, is striped face And obscure and pondering Thinks always in that silent place Of some old, secret thing.
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