Clark Ashton Smith
Clark Ashton Smith (January 13, 1893 - August 14, 1961), while best known today for his association with H.P. Lovecraft and the Cthulhu Mythos, stands on his own as a unique master of fantasy, horror, and science fiction. While Smith thought of himself primarily as a poet and wrote over 700 poems and prose poems, he is better known today for his short stories. Clark Ashton Smith was also a self-taught artist whose paintings, drawings, and sculptures reflect the fantastic worlds of his fiction.
External link
- The Eldritch Dark (http://www.eldritchdark.com) - This website contains almost all of his written work.
schools of literature.html">literature, interpreting local life in local idiom, in all
worth striving for; such a literature, so far from impeding the progress
spirit, substance and form.
1. 'Yorkshire Dialect Poems', 1673-1915 (Sedgwick and Jackson 1916)
2. 'Reminiscences'
3. J. Dover Wilson, Writing in the 'Athenaeum' under the pseudonym
entitled "Prospects in English Literature," to which the ideas set forth
A Dalesman's Litany
A Yorkshire Proverb.
Wheer they've/ve.html">ve/ve.html">ve/ve.html">ve/ve.html">ve/ve.html">ve bin bred an' born;
I'd bide 'mong t' roots an' corn.
So here's my litany:
Gooid Lord, deliver me!
When I were courtin' Mary Ann,
"I've got no bield(1) for wedded fowks;
I couldn't gie up t' lass I loved,
Frae Hull, an' Halifax, an' Hell,
An' addled(2) honest brass;
I've kept my barns an' lass.
And once I went to sea:
Gooid Lord, deliver me!
I've walked at neet through Sheffield loans,(3)
Furnaces thrast out tongues o' fire.html">fire,
I've sammed up coals i' Barnsley pits,
Frae Sheffield, Barnsley, Rotherham,
As thick as bastile(4) soup;
Like rabbits in a coop.
As black as ebiny:
Gooid Lord, deliver me!
But now, when all wer childer's fligged,(5)
There's fotty mile o' heathery moor
And when I sit ower t' fire at neet,
Frae Bradforth, Leeds, an Huthersfel',
T' gooid Lord's delivered me!
1. Shelter. 2. Earned,
Cambodunum
on the hills above Huddersfield.
how I love the sound o' t' name!
gave th' owd place its lastin' fame.
We've bin lords o' Cambodunum
Fowk say our fore-elders
mowin' gerse an' tentin' kye,
.
On
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