The Secret

Clark Ashton Smith

Like a word
Of an archetypal tongue,
Never told,
Never sung;

All unstirred,
Like the corals of the deep
In their cold
and purple sleep;

Lost and far,
Like a forest-folded bloom
Lulled above
Its own perfume;

Like a star
In the nether darkness drowned,
Lies the love
We have not found.

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Printed on: December 18, 2018