Clark Ashton Smith

The sunset-gonfalons are furled
On plains of evening, broad and pale,
And woven athwart the waning world
The air is like a silver veil.

Into the thin and trembling gloom,
That holds a hueless warp of light,
The murmuring wind on a slow loom
Weaves the rich purples of the night.

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Printed on: April 16, 2021