The day had come again, when as a child I saw - just once - that hollow of old oaks, Grey with a ground-mist that enfolds and chokes The slinking shapes which madness has defiled. It was the same - an herbage rank and wild Clings round an altar whose carved sign invokes That Nameless One to whom a thousand smokes Rose, aeons gone, from unclean towers up-piled.
I saw the body spread on that dank stone, And knew those things which feasted were not men; I knew this strange, grey world was not my own, But Yuggoth, past the starry voids - and then The body shrieked at me with a dead cry, And all too late I knew that it was I!