Page:Weird Tales Volume 36 Number 11 (1943-05).djvu/29

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TARS do not shine at Avalon Nor raindrops fall on velvet lawns, Through lonely days and endless years I’ve witnessed half a million dawns.

The house is old and thick with dust, The sagging steps are green with moss, The cobbled paths stretch to the sea Where bits of driftwood idly toss.

There is no life at Avalon The birds have fled and all is still, But I, the ghost called Might Have Been, Yet wander on a nearby hill.