Lovecraft, H P - What The Moon Brings

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What the Moon Brings

by H. P. Lovecraft

Written 5 June 1922

Published May 1923 in The National Amateur, Vol. 45, No. 5, page 9

I hate the moon - I am afraid of it - for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved

it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous.

It was in the spectral summer when the moon shone down on the old garden where I

wandered; the spectral summer of narcotic flowers and humid seas of foliage that bring

wild and many-coloured dreams. And as I walked by the shallow crystal stream I saw

unwonted ripples tipped with yellow light, as if those placid waters were drawn on in

resistless currents to strange oceans that are not in the world. Silent and sparkling, bright

and baleful, those moon-cursed waters hurried I knew not whither; whilst from the

embowered banks white lotos-blossoms fluttered one by one in the opiate night-wind and

dropped despairingly into the stream, swirling away horribly under the arched, carven

bridge, and staring back with the sinister resignation of calm, dead faces.

And as I ran along the shore, crushing sleeping flowers with heedless feet and maddened

ever by the fear of unknown things and the lure of the dead faces, I saw that the garden

had no end under that moon; for where by day the walls were, there stretched now only

new vistas of trees and paths, flowers and shrubs, stone idols and pagodas, and bendings

of the yellow-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of marble. And

the lips of the dead lotos-faces whispered sadly, and bade me follow, nor did I cease my

steps till the stream became a river, and joined amidst marshes of swaying reeds and

beaches of gleaming sand the shore of a vast and nameless sea.

Upon that sea the hateful moon shone, and over its unvocal waves weird perfumes

breeded. And as I saw therein the lotos-faces vanish, I longed for nets that I might capture

them and learn from them the secrets which the moon had brought upon the night. But

when that moon went over to the west and the still tide ebbed from the sullen shore, I saw

in that light old spires that the waves almost uncovered, and white columns gay with

festoons of green seaweed. And knowing that to this sunken place all the dead had come,

I trembled and did not wish again to speak with the lotos-faces.

Yet when I saw afar out in the sea a black condor descend from the sky to seek rest on a

vast reef, I would fain have questioned him, and asked him of those whom I had known

when they were alive. This I would have asked him had he not been so far away, but he

was very far, and could not be seen at all when he drew nigh that gigantic reef.

So I watched the tide go out under that sinking moon, and saw gleaming the spires, the

towers, and the roofs of that dead, dripping city. And as I watched, my nostrils tried to

close against the perfume-conquering stench of the world's dead; for truly, in this

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Lovecraft, H P - What The Moon Brings

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