In dungeon deep, where shadows creep
And midnight's chill doth softly creep,
Upon a shelf of dust and gloom,
A volume waits in silent doom.
From whence it stirs, with creak and groan,
Its pages part, as if alone;
No hand unseen, no mortal breath,
Unleash the mawโteeth sharp as death!
It snarls and gapes, a yawning pit,
Where lamplight fades, and horrors flit;
The chamber swirls in vortex wild,
Down, down it draws the scene beguiled.
Into its throat, the world is reeled,
A faraway of dragons whelledโ
Where spooks arise on All Hallows' Eve,
And phantoms dance 'midst autumn's grieve.
Oh, woe betide the curious soul
Who lingers near that cursed scroll!
For once entwined in its dread art,
No light returns to break the heart.
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