The Works of Sydney Fowler Wright 1874 - 1965


by S. Fowler Wright

Vanity Fair
May 1928

      What means the blood-red blooms that rose
        The garth in which you dwell?
      Such gardens of desire enclose
        So cold a citadel.

      What though thine heart's environs make
        Delight to hear and see,
      If none from raptured walls shall take
        That frore virginity?

      What though that closed approach may glass
        An opal's changing fire,
      If none to rule its light may pass
        The gardens of desire?

      The autumn mists thy garth shall grieve,
        The scentless roses fall,
      The lustres of thy siege shall leave
        An unadventured wall.

      Slow fall the night's unchanging snows,
        Where the red roses fell,
      No gardens of desire enclose
        So lost a citadel.

"If it should be known now

The End