Like a worm-fretted visage from the tomb,
The moon unswathes her hollow, shrunken head,
Launching such light as foulders on the dead
From pallid skies more death-like than the gloom.
Under her beams the breasted lands assume
Dead hues, and charnel shapes unceremented;
And shadows that towering sepulchers might shed
Move livid as the shadows on dials of doom.
On hills like tumuli, and waters mute,
A whiteness steals as of a world made still
When reptant Death at last rears absolute-
An earth now frozen by malefice of eyes
Aeonian dooms and realm-deep rigors fill-
The gaze of that Medusa of the skies.
(Clark Ashton Smith)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Sadness PoemsBased on Keywords: medusa, breasted, death-like, launching, charnel, dials, rigors, aeonian, sepulchers, tumuli, realm-deep