A Fragment
To laud the loves of old,
I sought for splendors fabulous and far:
The curls of one were black Circean petals
Of poppies blown by night
In the sad gardens of a sinful star;
Her eyes were mystic metals,
Wrought with a secret told
By lost archangels in their flight
To women of the worlds that stray
On the red verges of the nether day;
Her voice was like a lulling music blown
At sunset from an isle of spells
Across a lake of rosy nenuphar;
And yet therein
Betimes I caught the chill and crystal bells
That grieved, and grieved alone,
Above the fallen din
Of cities drowsed with revelry and sin.
The Last Goddess
Clark Ashton Smith
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Poem topics: alone, lost, music, night, red, sad, star, sunset, women, voice, flight, secret, black, stray, fabulous, fallen, Valentine's Day, crystal, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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