To a Brunette

Addressed to His Beloved, after a short absence

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!


Thelema

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