The Orchid

The Orchid As the orchid blooms its long beautiful flower The perfume of which fills the air hour by hour The strength in its leave when open from bud No decay just a little wrinkle as in age it should If Orchis the son of the nymph and satyr Had not drunk of the vine and showed his desire As he drank long and hard at the feast of Dionysus His eyes fell on a priestess and caused all the fuss. He wanted her, was his drunken decree And he didn’t care if she didn’t want he He coveted the priestess as he drank by the hour Determined he was soon her going to deflower. His advances she said she would not take But he did not listen and her he would make But for this insult to a revered priestess The gods were determined he’d pay for her distress He would not go unpunished this was THEIR decree And ripped limb from limb they decreed he would be The bacchanalians did tear him apart and justly so He should have accepted the priestess she said NO! The father of Orchis prayed the Gods would restore The son that he loved and would for evermore After they listened to the prayers of a father distraught The Gods returned Orchis not as a man but as a flower they thought. Orchis became the flower with the strange sounding name Whose beauty enchants and its perfume does the same The orchid, the bulbs shape we will recognise today The part under the body, where a man likes us to play. © 9/02/2013/~GG~