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Fantasy Fan, v. 1, issue 9, May 1934

Page 142

142    THE FANTASY FAN, May, 1934

SHADOWS

by William Lumley

There's a city wrought of shadows
That I glimpse at fall of night,
And its streets are filled with phantoms
Flitting figuratively from sight.
They are of no stable semblance
That our fancy might devise,
But a baleful light is burning
In their slanting, almond eyes.
Every brow is pale and misty,
With a thin-lipped mouth beneath,
And the grinding jaws are ratlike--
Set with long and pointed teeth.
Neither rage nor ancient evil
Nor a curse bequeaths its stain,
But each face is wryly twisted
In a silent grin of pain.
Not a sign of hope or hatred
In that dull grimace is blent--
Like the fishes four accursed,
With their pain they are content.
Mother of all elder anguish,
Mighty, sinister and fair,
Great Cathay, with woes of aeons
In the burdens that you bear,
Tell me of your wrath-built Babel
Piled up from a primal day;
Tell me, too, when late-learned mercy
Shall the shadows sweep away!

DRAGONS

by A. Nonymous

The lashing winged bodies, serpent-tailed
Of curious slimy monsters brilliant scaled
Writhe joyously amidst the foaming surf
Of surging oceans yet unsailed.

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142 THE FANTASY FAN, May, 1934 SHADOWS by William Lumley There's a city wrought of shadows That I glimpse at fall of night, And its streets are filled with phantoms Flitting figuratively from sight. They are of no stable semblance That our fancy might devise, But a baleful light is burning In their slanting, almond eyes. Every brow is pale and misty, With a thin-lipped mouth beneath, And the grinding jaws are ratlike-- Set with long and pointed teeth. Neither rage nor ancient evil Nor a curse bequeaths its stain, But each face is wryly twisted In a silent grin of pain. Not a sign of hope or hatred In that dull grimace is blent-- Like the fishes four accursed, With their pain they are content. Mother of all elder anguish, Mighty, sinister and fair, Great Cathay, with woes of aeons In the burdens that you bear, Tell me of your wrath-built Babel Piled up from a primal day; Tell me, too, when late-learned mercy Shall the shadows sweep away! DRAGONS by A. Nonymous The lashing winged bodies, serpent-tailed Of curious slimy monsters brilliant scaled Writhe joyously amidst the foaming surf Of surging oceans yet unsailed.