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

IV.

Love sat like a boy by my pillow,
And murmured a song in mine ears
Of death on the breasts of the billow
And darkness and desolate years.

His Sweet eyes were streaming with sorrow,
His tresses were tangled and torn;
On his fair brows the fear of tomorrow
Was fixed like the tooth of a thorn.

He smiled at the close of his singing;
He kissed me with kisses of air:
When I woke in the dawn, I was wringing
Vain hands in a passion of prayer.

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