(Pale, weary breaths of paille-de-riz
The corsage of Semiramis).
My notes are aromatic traceries
Wherewith I swing my perfume through the trees
Fiercely exotic; fading on the breeze
Until my respiration fails
And what was ambergris
Melts now to liquorice.
I stagger on the air
With all my plumage bare,