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Clark Ashton Smith

The Nemesis of Suns

Lo, what are these, the gyres of sun and world,
Fulfilled with daylight by each toiling sun-
Lo, what are these but webs of radiance spun
Beneath the roof of Night, and torn or furled

The Return of Hyperion

The dungeon-clefts of Tartarus
Are close beyond the mountains
That are bound like a giant's girdle
About the unstirred, unbreathing east.
Alike on mountain and plain

Mirrors

Mirrors of steel or silver, gold or glass antique!
Whether in melancholy marble palaces
In some long trance you drew the dreamy loveliness
Of Roman queens, or queens barbarical, or Greek:

Autumnal

Clark Ashton Smith

In all the pleasances where Love was lord,
Blossom the mournful immortelles alone;
The fallen roses crumble, and are blown,
A snow of red, about the barren sward.

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