Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
Fire of SnowClark Ashton Smith
P
Astray with mind half-consciously intent,
I had not thought the wood so imminent.
Those lofty trees upstanding wearily,
Darker than sleep, more mute with mystery
Than far-off death, where questing dreams are spent
With stars and winds, appeared they as I went
Therein, and paused in old expectancy.
But the black stillness held where once the wind
Had parted boughs in music, that the gleam
Of stars might enter. All was strangely blind,
More dull than midnight ’neath the middle sea;
Filled with the silence of a perished dream