About H.P. Lovecraft
1890 - 1937/Male/AmericanAn author known for his works of horror fiction.
Selected Quotes
Poetry & Stories
Yule Horror
There is snow on the ground,And the valleys are cold,
Nemesis
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
Despair
O'er the midnight moorlands crying,Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
The City
It was golden and splendid,That City of light;
The Bride of the Sea
Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me,Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
About H.P. Lovecraft
H.P. Lovecraft: Quick Answers
Who is H.P. Lovecraft?
1890 - 1937/Male/AmericanAn author known for his works of horror fiction.
Where can I read H.P. Lovecraft's poetry?
Kavishala has 21 poems and stories by H.P. Lovecraft, free to read on this page, along with selected quotes you can share.
Poems & Stories by H.P. Lovecraft
Yule Horror
There is snow on the ground,And the valleys are cold,
Nemesis
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
Despair
O'er the midnight moorlands crying,Thro' the cypress forests sighing,
The City
It was golden and splendid,That City of light;
The Bride of the Sea
Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me,Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
Sunset
The cloudless day is richer at its close;A golden glory settles on the lea;
The Garden
There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;
The Cats
Babels of blocks to the high heavens toweringFlames of futility swirling below;
Little Tiger
Little Tiger, burning brightWith a subtle Blakeish light,
Astrophobos
In the Midnight heaven's burningThrough the ethereal deeps afar
Hallowe'en in a Suburb
The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,And the trees have a silver glare;
Where Once Poe Walked
Eternal brood the shadows on this ground,Dreaming of centuries that have gone before;
Selected Quotes by H.P. Lovecraft (चुनिंदा उद्धरण)
Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,
Babels of blocks to the high heavens toweringFlames of futility swirling below;
The cloudless day is richer at its close;A golden glory settles on the lea;
Little Tiger, burning brightWith a subtle Blakeish light,
Eternal brood the shadows on this ground,Dreaming of centuries that have gone before;
Black loom the crags of the uplands behind me,Dark are the sands of the far-stretching shore.
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