The Carcass

Oh my love do you still recall
The object which we saw
That fair sweet summer morn
Upon a bed of shingle
That Its legs raised in the air
Like some of the lustful woman
Burning and sweating pest
To view its noisome breast
The sun shone down upon that putrescence
As if to roast it to a turn
So to repay to Nature
What she had mingled there
And the sky was the opening flower
You thought to faint away
Yet you will be like that
To mould among the dead