Zothique

by Clark Ashton Smith


	He who has trod the shadows of Zothique
	And looked upon the coal-red sun oblique,
	Henceforth returns to no anterior land,
	But haunts a later coast
	Where cities crumble in the black sea-sand
	And dead gods drink the brine.

	He who has known the gardens of Zothique
	Were bleed the fruits torn by the simorgh's beak,
	Savors no fruit of greener hemispheres:
	In arbors uttermost,
	In sunset cycles of the sombering years,
	He sips an amaranth wine.

	He who has loved the wild girls of Zothique
	Shall not come back a gentler love to seek,
	Nor know the vampire's from the lover's kiss:
	For him the scarlet ghost
	Of Lilith from time's last necropolis
	Rears amorous and malign.

	He who has sailed in galleys of Zothique
	And seen the looming of strange spire and peak,
	Must face again the sorcerer-sent typhoon,
	And take the steerer's post
	On far-poured oceans by the shifted moon
	Or the re-shapen Sign.