He came up to the window in the mist
As I'd seen him often before
But he was solid then, not a ghost
And his eyes were fierce
Like a man's when angry

He was laughing
When he turned to look back over the belt of trees
Glinting in the moonlight
To where the dogs were barking

Then he began promising me things
Not in words, but by doing them
Have you seen at awful din of hellish infamy?
Where the very moonlight alive with grisly shapes
And every speck of dust that whirls in the wind
A devouring monster in embryo

Listen to them, the children of the night
What music they make