Howard Phillips Lovecraft (1890 - 1937) U.S. Author I never can be tied to raw, new things, For I first saw the light in an old town, Where from my window huddled roofs sloped down To a quaint harbour rich with visionings. Streets with carved doorways where the sunset beams Flooded old fanlights and small window-panes, And Georgian steeples topped with gilded vanes— These were the sights that shaped my childhood dreams. Such treasures, left from times of cautious leaven, Cannot but loose the hold of flimsier wraiths That flit with shifting ways and muddled faiths Across the changeless walls of earth and heaven. They cut the moment's thongs and leave me free To stand alone before eternity.

22 Prospect Street, Providence, United States

Howard Phillips Lovecraft Father of Weird Fiction, and Son of Providence, Born near this spot. August 20th 1890

454 Angell Street, Providence, United States