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...

Wednesday, January 18, 2006


The world will rob me of my friends,
For time with her conspires;
But they shall both to make amends
Relight my slumbering fires.

For while my comrades pass away
To bow and smirk and gloze,
Come others, for as short a stay;
And dear as these are those.

And who was this? they ask; and then
The loved and lost I praised:
“Like you they frolicked; they are men:
“Bless ye my later days.”

Why fret? the hawks I trained are flown:
‘Twas nature bade them range;
I could not keep their wings half-grown,
I could not bar the change.

With lattice opened wide I stand
To watch their eager flight;
With broken jesses in my hand
I muse on their delight.

And, oh! if one with sullied plume
Should droop in mid career,
My love makes signals:- “There is room,
Oh bleeding wanderer, here.”


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