And now I stretch beside him
Where he lies upon the ground,
And in all this lovely wilderness
We two alone are found.
FRAGMENT
He wandered through the darkened streets of night,
His massive cape a-blown with every wind.
He passed the strumpets flirting near the lamps,
And bowed to one—the one most infamous.
Then down familiar avenues he strolled,
And met, as he was sure to meet them there,
The lads who knew these lanes where men were bold.
How many a British soldier went to death
Beneath an Afric sun with some small gift,
A pocketknife inlaid with precious stones,
A case for cigarettes, or watch and chain,
Which had been given him by Oscar Wilde.
WE HANG UPON A SCAFFOLD
We hang upon a scaffold, lad,
The skeleton within
Is all the horror of the world,
Of virtue and of sin.
For he who knows no word of love,
Nor has his heart’s desire,
Must hang the same and die the same
As he who walks in fire.
Then hang upon your scaffold, lad
The mob will pierce your side,
Yet cry your triumph and your pain,
For man is crucified.
I LOOKED INTO YOUR EYES
I looked into your eyes and saw,
Or thought I saw, your love.
I tried to hide my own from you;
Not ever spoken of.