Atlantis

by Clark Ashton Smith


	Above its domes the gulfs accumulate..
	Far up, the sea-gales blare their bitter screed:
	But here the buried waters take no heed--
	Deaf, and with welded lips pressed down by weight
	Of the upper ocean. Dim, interminate,
	In cities over-webbed with somber weed,
	Where galleons crumble and the krakens breed,
	The slow tide coils through sunken court and gate.

	From out the ocean's phosphor-starry dome,
	A ghostly light is dubitably shed
	On alters of a goddess garlanded
	With blossoms of some weird and hueless vine;
	And, wingéd, fleet, through skies beneath the foam,
	Like silent birds the sea-things dart and shine.