NECROMANCY
by Clark Ashton Smith
My heart is made a necromancer's glass,
Where homeless forms and exile phantoms teem;
Where faces of forgotten sorrows gleam,
And dead despairs archaic peer and pass:
Grey longings of some weary heart that was.
Possess me, and the multiple, supreme,
Unwildered hope and star-emblazoned dream
Of questing armies.... Ancient queen and lass,