I couldn’t resist

Blame Derbyshire. Reading the poem in light of yesterday’s conversation just caused the title to leap out at me. With deepest apologies to Mr. Yeats:

I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innesmouth

And a small altar build there, of clay and fishbones made;

Nine dread nights will I have there, enshrouded in darkling myth,

And live alone in the lurking shade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes creeping slow,

Swelling in the veils of the black tide I hear the chittering;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and dawn an eerie glow,

And evening full as the deep ones sing.

I will arise and go now, for always night is day

I hear the Shoggoth calling with vile sounds by the shore

While I stand by the mirror, my face a pallid gray,

I hear it in my cold heart’s core.