Wings of Perfume

Clark Ashton Smith

Unnamed, incognizable,
Save of inarticulate memory,
A quiver of scent from Earth's familiar night,
And, lo! the night and the earth
Are dropped like a cloak outworn,
And half-remembered twilight,
Some where beyond the intervening
Of time and dimension,
Arches above me, dark with columns,
Enormous, fantastic, not to be imagined on Earth,
Of a half-seen temple.
Through it, upon wings
Of an indescribable wind
That blows from the face of an alienated world -
A wind overpowering, vast
With its hints of unbelievable things
Struggling confusely to be remembered -
Through it such fragrance is carried swiftly
>From sacred gardens of scarce conceivable flowers
Rapt in the fluctuant ecstatic gloom
Between a blue sun lately set
And a green sun not yet risen.

Printed from: www.eldritchdark.com/writings/poetry/653
Printed on: November 20, 2017