Obscure Queer

An Anthology of pieces drawn from my collecting and dealing in the obscure byways of queer literature. A new kind of anthology I hope - evolving, odd, eclectic...

Monday, January 30, 2006

II.

Never a breeze
Hath stirred the trees
This long October day;
But the dripping eaves
Are thick with leaves,
That silently fall away.

All night there went
A discontent
Around yon lonely fir;
But when the day
Broke sad and grey,
Quiet came over her.

My heart is dead,
the unrest fled
That rocked me through the night;
But a world’s weight lies
On the tired eyes
That loathe and rebuke the light.

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