PERFUMERY
A naked, wide-hipped woman, looking throughThe bushy blackness of her falling hair,Pressed in her palms the petals of a flower.And there arose like incense on the airA haunting breath of almonds; and the scentClung to her fingers when she locked them tightAbout the thick neck of her conquering man,Hot from the hunting, while he sniffedAs lightly as a pointer dog, the trailOf springtime on the brown skin of his bride.Then Nature laughed, to set another snareWith odorous seductions for his race.
A Queen in Egypt, finding her lord cold,Consulted that wise Shaman, who distilledFrom secret script, in red-hot crucibles,A priceless perfume. . . 'Twas but yesterdaySome excavator found her mummied armsCrossed over a small vial wrought in goldAnd lapis lazuli; and though it heldOnly a whiff of fragrance, 'twas more sweetThan blossomed acres in a mile of bloom!
