I feel the breath of the summer night, Aromatic fire: The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir With tender desire.
The white moths flutter about the lamp, Enamoured with light; And a thousand creates softly sing A song to the night!
But I am alone, and how can I sing Praises to thee? Come, Night! unveil the beautiful soul That waiteth for me.
About the Poet Elizabeth Drew Stoddard was born in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, in 1823. She published both prose and poetry during her lifetime, including Poems (Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1895). She died in 1902.
I began my life in the South and for five years lived as a closeted teacher, but am now making a new life for myself as an oral historian in New England. I think my life will work out the way it was always meant to be. That doesn't mean there won't be ups and downs; that's all part of life. It means I just have to be patient. I feel like October 7, 2015 is my new birthday. It's a beginning filled with great hope. It's a second chance to live my life…not anyone else's.
My profile picture is "David and Me," 2001 painting by artist Steve Walker. It happens to be one of my favorite modern gay art pieces.
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This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 19th, 2022 at 6:00 am and posted in Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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