Clark Ashton Smith

Haply I shall not know, as others know,
The face you have given to the fumbling sun,
That sculptor of chaotic night; and none
May share what loveliness the shadows show
To me, nor watch the curious cameo
Of your archaic brows against the moon—
A tarnished empress on a broad doubloon,
Flame-edged and glowing. Each must ever go
In the sealed world of his peculiar sense,
And this your beauty with diverse phantasms
People the swirl of all impermanence
For our diverse perception. . . . Virginal
You are, and vaguely loved, if loved at all,
For in the closest kiss are unknown chasms.

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