Like Poe, Lovecraft began writing significantly more poetry than fiction, and at one point considered himself primarily a poet. This is his (more of less) complete public domain poetry.
Apollo, chasing Daphne, gain’d his prize But lo! she turn’d to wood before his eyes. More modern swains at golden prizes aim, And ever strive some worldly thing to claim. Yet ’tis the same as in Apollo’s case, For, once attain’d, the purest gold seems base. All that men seek ’s unworthy of the quest, Yet seek they will, and never pause for rest. True bliss, methinks, a man can only find In virtuous life, & cultivated mind.
