Clark Ashton Smith

“ In worlds without a sun, or at the heart
Of monstrous-eyed and panting flow'rs of flesh,
Or aeon-blooming amaranths of stone;
And they have ministered within the brains.
Of sages and magicians, and have served
To swell the pulse of kings or conquerors,
And have been privy to the hearts of queens.
The Ghoul turns his back on the Seraph, and moves away singing. ”

“ From pulses oped in never-ending sleep.
⁠THE SERAPH
O! foulness born as of the ninefold curse
Of dragon-mouthed Apollyon, plumed with darts,
And armed with horns of incandescent bronze!
O, dark as Satan's nightmare, or the fruit
Of Belial's rape on hell's black hippogriff!***
What knowest THOU of Paradise, where grow
The gardens of the manna-laden myrrh,
And lotos never known to Ulysses,
Whose fruit provides our long and sateless banquet? ”

“ That is their splendour, clomb in separate ways,
Through suns, and worlds, and cycles infinite—
Through burning brume of systems unbegun,
Or manes of long-haired comets, that have lashed
The night of space to fury and to fire ”