The Garden of Adompha Clark Ashton Smith Lord of the sultry, red parterres And orchards sunned by hell’s unsetting flame! Amid thy garden blooms the Tree which bears Unnumbered heads of demons for its fruit; And, like a slithering serpent, runs the root That is called Baaras; And there the forky, pale mandragoras, Self-torn from out the soil, go to and fro, Calling upon thy name: Till men new-damned will deem that devils pass, Crying in wrathful frenzy and strange woe.
