Clark Ashton Smith

Though winter come with cleaving rain with bonds of rime,
It shall not sever us, the dreamers calm and wise,
Prom succor and solace of our pagan paradise:

For in your cypress-bole, still standing from the prime,
Dear hamadryad you and I shall drowse content,
Bosom to bosom, till the evil term be spent.

And, though the wrackful storm on seas and headlands climb,
Another dreamer bas found a long-abiding home,
Safe in the nereid's cavern, far beneath the foam.

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