"...the sirens of the stars, with foam-light songs of silver fragrance wrought, would lure me to their crystal reefs, and moons..." - from The Hashish Eater by Clark Ashton Smith, lines 21-3
Treble shadows drift across
The ebon land, where holocaust
Long since forgot left still remains
'neath parti-coloured fire rains;
The nether land, where dwell the lost
On the shores of sandyx seas
The mistrals breathe of ripened cheese
Yet, oft times carry soft refrains -
So sweet with life, so fraught with pains -
With solemn echo and reprise
Argent odours light on airs
From lips of sard, 'neath moondark hairs
So still, reclined on shoals of quartz
Where, far from earthly docks and ports,
They ride with pride on milk-white mares
Raven revelries consign
The wastrel galleys to the brine,
Where comely maidens softly moan
To melodies on pipes of bone,
And shades of treble moons entwine