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.
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