Robert Ervin Howard,
The Voices Waken Memory
(1934)
“ Like far-off neighing of the nightmare's foal. But let me fix my phantom-shadowed eyes Hard on the stars — pale points of silver light— Here is the borderlad — here reason lies— There, vision, gryphons, Nothing, and the Night. Down, down, red spectres, down, and rack me not! Out, wolves of Hell! Oh God, my pulses thrum; The night grows fierce and blind and red and hot, And nearer still a frim insistent drum. I will not look into the shadows — No! The star shall grip and hold my frantic gaze— But even in the stars black visions grow, And dragons writhe with iron eyes ablaze. ”
