The Fragrance Blest

Lotus, whose sapless roots Deep in stream’s muddy soul, When lost the mossy bond below Is turned gray in deeper gloom. Her mate the light of all that live, In pain he sinks in golden waves, And the verge of seas are found Billowing clouds that wailing loud. Life is but a sweet and snappy scent That keeps the pulpy mass in place On frames of bones big and small, Veins, sinews, marrows in tones. When is lost that fragrance blest We are, but a fetid maggots’ feast.