Sensibility: Scents Poem by Alan Cooper

Of all the senses, God gave man,
The sense of smell, is one we can
Least do without, for poor is he,
Who gazing, at some lilac tree,
Knows not, its heady scent.

The new-born calf, on legs so weak,
Wide eyed, but seeing naught, does seek
By scent alone, its mother's milk
And lambs, and puppies too and all that ilk,
Do likewise do.

What memories stir, on summery day
When nostrils, scent the new-mown hay,
When born perhaps, on autumn breeze,
Comes pungent smell, of burning leaves,
Or even stable's odour.

Fruit odours waft me, once more home,
Where I, in orchard, hours did roam.
The lovely fragrance, of bonnie rose
Recalls the days, each lover knows,
And fondly treasures.

The heavenly scent, of pine-logs blaze,
Revives sweet memories, of Christmas days.
Whilst tangy smell, that orange brings
Transport at once, to circus rings
Aah! Magic moments.

Man's nose indeed, doth hold the key
No other sense, with verity.
Unlocks distinctions, of aesthetic pleasure,
In such a full, abundant measure.
To all, like me.