Oh, you mean I'm a homosexual! Of course I am, and heterosexual too, but what's that got to do with my headache?

Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love that land where man is free, And that will I defend.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

And he whose soul is flat -- the sky Will cave in on him by and by.

I would I were alive again To kiss the fingers of the rain, To drink into my eyes the shine Of every slanting silver line, To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze From drenched and dripping apple-trees. For soon the shower will be done, And then the broad face of the sun Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth Until the world with answering mirth Shakes joyously, and each round drop Rolls twinkling, from its grass-blade top.

Cruel of heart, lay down my song. Your reading eyes have done me wrong. Not for you was the pen bitten, And the mind wrung, and the song written.

But you, you foolish girl, you have gone home to a leaky castle across the sea to lie awake in linen smelling of lavender, and hear the nightingale, and long for me.