by R. Jere Black, Jr.
Last night I started from a dream,
And saw within the moonlight’s gleam
A shrouded figure by my bed,
All robed in black, with muffled head.
I stared awhile with fearful eyes
Before I pierced my friend’s disguise;
Then, banished all my foolish fear,
I welcomed him with hearty cheer:
“Hast come at last, old friend?” I cried.
“Long for thy greeting have I sighed ;
My house is empty, pleasures few ;
The only friend now left is you.
And art thous really come for me,
To bid me journey forth with thee!”
With solemn nod my friend replied,
Then touched my brow–and so I died.
This poem materialized in the March 1930 issue of Weird Tales. To read the full issue visit our page of the pulps.