With wraith-like fingers, to a peril sure?
'Tis told that evil things lurk out of sight
With human bones that fester in the ooze;
Belike 'tis true, these bones that once were clothed
In fleshly form now harbor deadly spite
Against the living, and this swamp still brews
Within its bubbling depths the curse men loathed
Before they turned to leprous Things of Night!