The Song of Cartha

Clark Ashton Smith

Queen, whose perilous bosom bare
Was the field of love's emprise,
I would hush my weary sighs
In the silence of thy hair.

In my heart thy kisses wrought
Raptures of the fabled faun;
Seal my lids before the dawn
With thy lips, and lift them not.

Queen, whose breasts were mine to keep
Through the moon-abandoned night,
Languid love and dead delight
In thine arms are fain to sleep.

Printed from: www.eldritchdark.com/writings/poetry/525
Printed on: November 19, 2017