Marmora

Out of the west, foul breezes sweep,
Out of the dark where the black moons creep,
With the breath of the web-faced things asleep
In Marmora.

A ruby flares in the glistening sky,
In the marble palace, gold dwarfs ery,
Long-dead creatures murmur and sigh
In Marmora.

In a marsh that even the water-snakes spurn,
Mandrakes writhe and witch-fires burn,
Swart talons toward the ruby turn,
In Marmora.

All night the blood-red ruby glares,
Before the palace a beacon flares,
But the spell-bound half-beasts lie in their lairs
In Marmora.

Out of the sky, a black star shines,
From the palace, a marble monster whines,
On the throne a king for its worm-queen pines
In Marmora.

Smooth is the liquid ink of the lake,
On its shore, mad emeralds burn in the brake,
A slain man moans on a pointed stake
In Marmora.