Clark Ashton Smith Poems

Hath Sound alone a voice? Nay, 'tis not so:
Silence can speak unto the inner ear,
If it be finely tuned and keyed to hear-
A meaning-laden message, soft and low.
...

Alas! the evanescence of a dream,
That, like a rose, shall never blossom more!
A glimpse of unguessed things, and then the door
Of waking sense clangs to. Alas! the Gleam,
...

O sapphire lake amid autumnal mountains,
With fire of aspens round about you burning,
I would my love and I were now returning,
Perchance to leave you never—
...

Dear one, what do we here ?
Petal by petal falls the alien spring
In gardens where we pass ungarlanded,
And seek once more the doves and myrtles dead
...

All drear and barren seemed the hours,
That passed rain-swept and tempest-blown.
The dead leaves fell like brownish notes
Within the rain's grey monotone.
...

Glossy-backed, the crows
Ward the garden-rows:
One turns to watch the farmer.
...

It lies beyond the farthest sea,
This castle whereonto I flee
When life and time hang wearily.
Yet though so far, 'tis strangely nigh:
...

I went homeward by the willowed
Stream-bed, knowing
That she waited on the road.
...

To you, that went from Arcady
To follow after worldly shows,
My songs shall bring unfailingly
The scent of bay and forest rose.
...

Upon the seas of Saturn I have sailed
To isles of high primeval amarant,
Where the flame-tongued, sonorous flowers enchant
The hanging surf to silence; all engrailed
...