Dust smells of a sun ray,
Girls breaths, - violets hold,
Freedom clings to the wild honey,
But there’s no smell to gold.
The mignonette smells of water
Apple-tang clings to love,
But we were always taught that
Blood smells only of blood.
So it was no use the governor from
Washing his hands before the howls
Of the wicked mob,
And it was in vain
That the Scottish queen washed the scarlet
Splashes from her narrow palms
In the thane’s gloomy suffocating home.