Clark Ashton Smith Poems

I was a midge
With broken wing,
Crawling some colossal ridge
Underneath the world
...

O tissued fabric of the frame of things,
Thou art an alternating tide,
And Life a moment's foam
Thy shifting wave upflings.
...

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
...

This is enchanted ground
Whereto the nymphs are bound;
Where the hoar oaks maintain,
While seasons mount or wane,
...

The season brings but little gold,
And only rusty gules and sanguines dull
To these rude hills with darkling lava cored
And with thick, sombre rocks embossed
...

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:
...