Transcriber's Note: This e-text was produced from Weird Tales, August-September, 1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
By C. A. BUTZ
The lights that wink across the sodden moor
Like phosphorescent eyes that beckon men
To risk fell footsteps in the treacherous fen,
And sink in loathsome muck, without a spoor—
What ghosts of former days, what dread allure,
Abides within this subterranean den?
Or, reaching out, snares victims to its ken,