Clark Ashton Smith
Clark Ashton Smith (January 13, 1893 – August 14, 1961) was a self-educated American poet, sculptor, painter and author of fantasy, horror and science fiction short stories. He achieved early local recognition, largely through the enthusiasm of George Sterling, for traditional verse in the vein of Swinburne. As a poet, Smith is grouped with the West Coast Romantics alongside Ambrose Bierce, Joaquin Miller, Sterling, Nora May French, and remembered as "The Last of the Great Romantics" and "The Bard of Auburn".
Smith was one of "the big three of Weird Tales, along with Robert E. Howard and H. P. Lovecraft", where some readers objected to his morbidness ... more »
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Clark Ashton Smith Poems
To The Sun
Thy light is an eminence unto thee And thou art upheld by the pillars of thy strength. Thy power is a foundation for the worlds: They are builded thereon as upon a lofty rock
In Averoigne the enchantress weaves Weird spells that call a changeling sun, Or hale the moon of Hecate Down to the ivy-hooded towers.
Now were the Titans gathered round their king In a waste region slipping toward the verge Of drear extremities that clasp the world— A land half-moulded by the hasty gods,
O perfect love, unhoped-for, past despair! I had not thought to find Your face betwixt the terrene earth and air: But deemed you lost in fabulous old lands
Is it a dream, is it a memory - That, underneath some warmer moon of yore, We dreamt of love, we dreamt forevermore To make of Love our immortality?
Dearest, today I found A lonely spot, such as we two have loved, Where two might lie upon Favonian ground Peering to faint horizons far-removed:
The Ghost Of Theseus
Where nights are one with days I roam the empty stony maze That stalled the Minotaur.
A Live-Oak Leaf
How marvellous this bit of green I hold, and soon shall throw away! Its subtle veins, its vivid sheen, Seem fragments of a god's array.
The Maze Of Sleep
Sleep is a pathless labyrinth, Dark to the gaze of moons and suns, Through which the exile clue of dreams, A gossamer thread, obscurely runs.
The Old Water-Wheel
Often, on homeward ways, I come To a deserted orchard, old and lone, Unplowed, untrod, with wilding grasses grown Through rows of pear and plum.
Perseus And Medusa
I met her mirrored stare: The cycles of stone glories Locked in the Gorgon's glare.
Walled with far azures of the wintering year, Late autumn on a windless altar burns; Splendid as rubies from Sabean urns, A holocaust of hues is gathered here.
O mouth by many kissed, O heart that all might capture! How art thou fain and mournful For love that love has missed—
By what digit of the moon Shall I question, late or soon, Your shoal-green eyes?
Comments about Clark Ashton Smith
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
To The Sun
Thy light is an eminence unto thee
And thou art upheld by the pillars of thy strength.
Thy power is a foundation for the worlds:
They are builded thereon as upon a lofty rock
Whereto no enemy hath access.
Thou puttest forth thy rays, and they hold the sky
As in the hollow of an immense hand.
Thou erectest thy light as four walls
And a roof with many beams and pillars.
Thy flame is a stronghold based as a mountain:
Its bastions are tall, and firm like stone.
The worlds are bound with the ropes of thy will,
Like steeds are they stayed and constrained