Festival by H.P. LovecraftFestival
by H.P. Lovecraft
Written 
Published December 1926 in Weird Tales 
There is snow on the ground, 
  And the valleys are cold, 
And a midnight profound 
 Blackly squats o'er the wold; 
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of 
  feastings unhallowed and old. 
There is death in the clouds, 
  There is fear in the night, 
For the dead in their shrouds 
  Hail the sun's turning flight. 
And chant wild in the woods as they dance 
  round a Yule-altar fungous and white. 
To no gale of Earth's kind 
  Sways the forest of oak, 
Where the thick boughs entwined 
  By mad mistletoes choke, 
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark, 
  from the graves of the lost Druid-folk. 
And mayst thou to such deeds 
  Be an abbot and priest, 
Singing cannibal greeds 
  At each devil-wrought feast, 
And to all the incredulous world 
  shewing dimly the sign of the beast. 



Originally a christmas poem sent to Farnsworth Wright, who surprised Lovecraft 
by publishing it as "Yule Horror." 



Last modified: 02/24/2000 20:25:30 
