This poem from Clark Ashton Smith (CAS) was not published in his lifetime, and is not available on The Eldritch Dark, so here's the complete text:
Erstwhile, for beauty's tattered gold,
I have the forfeit tear,
But now the orchard-lighting year
Has found a heart forlorn and cold.
Though poplars take the passing flame,
And fling it on the windy skies,
I listen, hushed with lone surmise,
To hear a half-remembered name.
I've recently read several autumn-themed poems by CAS, and this one seems like a rather minor entry in that vein.
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