The Conservative (Lovecraft)/October 1916/The Unknown

For works with similar titles, see The Unknown.
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The Unknown

A seething sky--
A mottled moon--
Waves surging high--
Storm's raving rune:

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Wild clouds a-reel--
Wild sounds a-shout--
Black vapours steal
In ghastly rout.

Through rift is shot
The moon's wan grace--
But God! That blot
Upon its face!

Elizabeth Berkeley

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