Yule Horror - H.P. Lovecraft

There is snow on the ground,And the valleys are cold,And a midnight profoundBlackly squats o'er the wold;But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings un-hallowed and old.There is death in the clouds,There is fear in the night,For the dead in their shroudsHail the sin'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 kindSways the forest of oak,Where the sick boughs entwinedBy mad mistletoes choke,For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.