Tis Fragrant Still

Year: 1923

by E. Maurice Little    


A scarlet rose that once was gay, 

And doubtless made some garden fair:

But faded now-its beauty gone;

Yet though it lay, as time pressed on,

Concealed amid her treasures there,

Its fragrance never passed away.


An early love at youth’s hey-day,

That promised richest joys and sweet;

Yet, though the hope of that rare hour

Declined and faded as a flower

That withers ‘neath the noon-day heat

Its fragrance never passed away.


                                                  E. Maurice Little (1923)