Nocturne Poem by Clark Ashton Smith
Nocturne
A silver sleep is on the vale;
The breathless pines are pale,
Where quiet shadows dream
By some departing stream.
With hands fantastical and still,
Upon the windless hill,
One cypress fain would hold
The moon of faded gold.
Friday, April 18, 2014
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4/26/2024 4:04:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
