Clark Ashton Smith

You are the stately sunset,

Departing with a hundred flames of amber

Beyond the pinnacles of autumn pine

And the tow mountains

That bear the brief and vast Olympus of the clouds

Under a purpling zenith.

You are the stately sunset,

And after you

Silence will rear the moon-eclipsing night,

And a few spectral stars will gather,

Like wisps to lead the wandering gods astray

Into the black and boundless fen of all the gulfs.

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