Clark Ashton Smith: an elegy.

Phillip A. Ellis

Oh, poet-prophet, lord of eldritch verse,
from what unearthly land did you arise?
To what mephitic muse in Auburn's skies
did you invoke to swell this universe
with stranger lands than any could traverse?
Or did some god come down in human guise
-- perhaps Thasaidon — looking through your eyes
and weaving words both splendrous and perverse?

The world is richer by the words you gave
and left behind: your poetry and tales
that speak to us from out of time and space
about the coming weirds upon our race.
Your life is gone, but still your voice regales
with visions from beyond your hallowed grave.

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