Enigma Poem by Clark Ashton Smith
Enigma
Across thy face a glimmer passes—
Wrought by what far and hidden flame?
Say, is it loveliness, or love,
Or light of sunken moons remembered
From gardens none shall name?
There is a secret shadow clinging
Closely between thy lips of red:
Is it the grief of new desire?
Or half-forgotten darkness lulling
Sorrowful loves long dead?
Friday, April 4, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: forgotten,gardens,grief,lips
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8/14/2026 6:51:20 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
