I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innesmouth
And a small altar build there, of clay and fishbones made;
Nine dread nights will I have there, enshrouded in darkling myth,
And live alone in the lurking shade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes creeping slow,
Swelling in the veils of the black tide I hear the chittering;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and dawn an eerie glow,
And evening full as the deep ones sing.
I will arise and go now, for always night is day
I hear the Shoggoth calling with vile sounds by the shore
While I stand by the mirror, my face a pallid gray,
I hear it in my cold heart’s core.