A FANTASIE OF DREAMS.
Dreams of Death,
Wherein the Breath
Of pulsing Life wavereth
’Twixt earth and sky,
And fluttering Things sail by
In hideous forms that cause the eye
To quail in fright ...
Dark Things of Night
With bat-like wings, and eyes as bright
As flames of Hell
Wherein they dwell
To torment souls with wild revel.
With bony claws of razored steel
They clutch the naked soul and seal
Thereon their hellish dies ...
... Midst eldritch yelps, and cries
Of fiendish triumph—echoed by the skies—
They bear the gasping soul,
Livid and seared, through voids that roll
Away in endless horrors up to the goal
Of all lost souls: and there
They wrench their way thro’ putrid air
Of brimstone,—foul smells that bear
The Soul on seas of thirsty flames
That surge and swell ...
... And there the soul forever broils
And roasts and boils
Within the blackened gates of Hell.
John Northern Hilliard.