The Pagan

Clark Ashton Smith

(From Christophe des Laurières)

In amaranthine days ere time was born
My home was in some ocean-fronting land
Where idle sirens on the pearl-white sand
With laughters hailed the wheedling Triton's horn.

Adown the cliffs I saw red satyrs clamber,
To stare at emerald evening on the bay
Where floating sea-nymphs from the riven spray
Offered their swelling deltas fleeced with amber.

And once, when flowering laurel spiced the air,
Between the boughs I caught a dryad's hair
And all her yielded youth was mind to hold;

And after, when the breathless hour was done,
We stretched our glowing languor in the sun,
My face against her body's moss of gold.

Printed from:
Printed on: January 21, 2019