Classic Poem

The bitter sweet of herbage after rain,
That subtle evanescent dim perfume,
So fleeting that it leaves a sense of pain,
A pang of disappointment, 'tis past so soon.
Rises like incense from the thankful earth,
Sweet voiceless, prayers from Nature's grateful heart
To the great Force which gives the raindrops birth,
That mighty Power that makes the flowers start.
A fairy incense! It now floats, now falls,
Now soft glides forward and now steals away,
Coy as a nymph who to her sister calls
Warning of satyr creeping sly her way.
As hard to compel as pleasure is this scent;
A sickening thought to those on pleasure bent.