- 7 (Fungi from Yuggoth by Howard Phillips Lovecraft)
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VII. Zamans Hill
The great hill hung close over the old town,
A precipice against the main streets end;
Green, tall, and wooded, looking darkly down
Upon the steeple at the highway bend.
Two hundred years the whispers had been heard
About what happened on the man-shunned slope
Tales of an oddly mangled deer or bird,
Or of lost boys whose kin had ceased to hope.
One day the mail-man found no village there,
Nor were its folk or houses seen again;
People came out from Aylesbury to stare
Yet they all told the mail-man it was plain
That he was mad for saying he had spied
The great hills gluttonous eyes, and jaws stretched wide.
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