I Was Reared In The Conservative Atmosphere

Dame Poverty Gave Me My Name, And Pain Godfathered Me.

Ever At Thy Glowing Altar Must My Heart Grow Sick And Falter, Wishing He I Served Were Black.

Give But A Grain Of The Heart's Rich Seed, Confine Some Under Cover, And When Love Goes, Bid Him God-speed. And Find Another Lover.

The Night Whose Sable Breast Relieves The Stark, White Stars, Is No Less Lovely Being Dark

Lord, Forgive Me If My Need Sometimes Shapes A Human Creed.