To a Brunette

Addressed to His Beloved, after a short absence

By Aleister Crowley

Sketches by Reginald Birch

Vanity Fair, February, 1916, p 63

WHEN first your raven beauty made me fond,

Your soul was pure and hard as diamond.

All books on “how to love” I nightly conned;

All suits I thought might please I daily donned;

It stirred not of our soul one lily-frond.

I offered you the rubies of Golcond,

Heaped at your feet the gold of Trebizond:—

But could not bring you the bridal bond.

Darling, I do not utterly despond—

Now that you are a blonde!


Index | Bernard Shaw on Self Effacement | Aleister Crowley: Mystic and Mountain Climber | Vampire Women | The Hokku—a New Verse Form | A Hindu at the Polo Grounds | Colloque Sentimental | With Muted Strings | The Prize Winners of the Hokku Contest | Three Little Prose Poems | The Hokku Winners | Six Little Poems in Prose | The Nonsense About Vers Libre | Three Great Hoaxes of the War | Anna of Havana | To a Brunette | Ratan Devi: Indian Singer | On the Management of Blondes | The Origin of the Game of Pirate Bridge | What’s Wrong with the Movies?