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.
The Medusa Of The Skies
Clark Ashton Smith
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Poem topics: light, moon, world, head, earth, deep, frozen, medusa, gaze, absolute, visage, death, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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