Scallydandling about the books | Victorian poetry by LGBTQIA+ poets @scallydandlingaboutthebook2711 | Uploaded October 2022 | Updated October 2024, 5 hours ago.
"I charge thee keep thy lips from hers or his,
Sweetest, till theirs be sweeter than my kiss" Swinburne (from Anactoria 1866)
This is a far from comprehensive overview but should lead you into some useful directions if like me you are interested in what it meant to be a poet and LGBTQIA+ in the Victorian period. I am not an expert and hope others who know more than me may add comments and further suggestions of poets and poems.
I list the poets mentioned with links or full text of examples of their writing. They wrote of course on all sorts of themes but I have looked for poems that may speak to their particular experience. My first version of this video was blocked so I have removed some links including those to the Victorian Q***r Archive set up by Dickinson College, Pennsylvania. But you can easily find this excellent resource by searching for yourself if you want.
Oscar Wilde 1854- 1900
Apologia emilyspoetryblog.com/2012/11/08/apologia-by-oscar-wilde
Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837-1909
Sapphics poetryfoundation.org/poems/45302/sapphics-56d224c13e1d5
Love and Sleep poetryfoundation.org/poems/50510/love-and-sleep
Anactoria is a longer one but passionate and intense.
Amy Levy 1861-1889
To Vernon Lee poetrynook.com/poem/vernon-lee
New Love New Life poemhunter.com/poem/new-love-new-life-2
Marc Andre Raffalovich 1864-1934
Sonnet CXX
Put on that languor which the world frowns on,
That blamed misleading strangeness of attire,
And let them see that see us we have done
With their false worldliness and look up higher.
Because the world has treated us so ill
And brought suspicion near our happiness,
Let men that like to slander as they will;
It shall not be my fault if we love less.
Because we two who never did them harm,
And never dreamt of harm ourselves, find men
So eager to perplex us and alarm
And scare from us our dove-like thoughts, well then
Since ‘twixt the world and truth must be our choice,
Let us seem vile, not be so, and rejoice.
John Gray 1866-1934
Summer Past poets.org/poem/summer-past
Katherine Harris Bradley 1846-1914
Edith Emma Cooper 1862-1913
published as Michael Field
Power in Silence poetryfoundation.org/poems/49271/power-in-silence
A Girl poetryfoundation.org/poems/53266/a-girl
John Addington Symonds 1840-1893
From Friend to Friend
Oh friend, I know not if such days and nights
Of fervent comradeship as we have spent,
Or if twin minds with equal ardour bent
To search the world's unspeakable delights,
Or if long hours passed on Parnassian heights
Together in rapt interminglement
Of heart with heart on thought sublime intent,
Or if the spark of heaven-born fire that lights
Love in both breasts from boyhood, thus have wrought
Our spirits to communion; but I swear
That neither chance nor change nor time nor aught
That makes the future of our lives less fair,
Shall sunder us who once have breathed this air
Of soul-commingling friendship passion-fraught.
Alfred Houseman 1859-1936
A poem from A Shropshire Lad youtu.be/ao3XUlJuEvo
Oh Who Is That Young Sinner
Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.
'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
In the good old time 'twas hanging for the colour that it is;
Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair
For the nameless and abominable colour of his hair.
Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare,
And they're haling him to justice for the colour of his hair.
Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet
And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
And between his spells of labour in the time he has to spare
He can curse the God that made him for the colour of his hair.
Charlotte Mew 1869-1928
Rooms poetryfoundation.org/poems/55326/rooms-56d236ccd8a74
"I charge thee keep thy lips from hers or his,
Sweetest, till theirs be sweeter than my kiss" Swinburne (from Anactoria 1866)
This is a far from comprehensive overview but should lead you into some useful directions if like me you are interested in what it meant to be a poet and LGBTQIA+ in the Victorian period. I am not an expert and hope others who know more than me may add comments and further suggestions of poets and poems.
I list the poets mentioned with links or full text of examples of their writing. They wrote of course on all sorts of themes but I have looked for poems that may speak to their particular experience. My first version of this video was blocked so I have removed some links including those to the Victorian Q***r Archive set up by Dickinson College, Pennsylvania. But you can easily find this excellent resource by searching for yourself if you want.
Oscar Wilde 1854- 1900
Apologia emilyspoetryblog.com/2012/11/08/apologia-by-oscar-wilde
Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837-1909
Sapphics poetryfoundation.org/poems/45302/sapphics-56d224c13e1d5
Love and Sleep poetryfoundation.org/poems/50510/love-and-sleep
Anactoria is a longer one but passionate and intense.
Amy Levy 1861-1889
To Vernon Lee poetrynook.com/poem/vernon-lee
New Love New Life poemhunter.com/poem/new-love-new-life-2
Marc Andre Raffalovich 1864-1934
Sonnet CXX
Put on that languor which the world frowns on,
That blamed misleading strangeness of attire,
And let them see that see us we have done
With their false worldliness and look up higher.
Because the world has treated us so ill
And brought suspicion near our happiness,
Let men that like to slander as they will;
It shall not be my fault if we love less.
Because we two who never did them harm,
And never dreamt of harm ourselves, find men
So eager to perplex us and alarm
And scare from us our dove-like thoughts, well then
Since ‘twixt the world and truth must be our choice,
Let us seem vile, not be so, and rejoice.
John Gray 1866-1934
Summer Past poets.org/poem/summer-past
Katherine Harris Bradley 1846-1914
Edith Emma Cooper 1862-1913
published as Michael Field
Power in Silence poetryfoundation.org/poems/49271/power-in-silence
A Girl poetryfoundation.org/poems/53266/a-girl
John Addington Symonds 1840-1893
From Friend to Friend
Oh friend, I know not if such days and nights
Of fervent comradeship as we have spent,
Or if twin minds with equal ardour bent
To search the world's unspeakable delights,
Or if long hours passed on Parnassian heights
Together in rapt interminglement
Of heart with heart on thought sublime intent,
Or if the spark of heaven-born fire that lights
Love in both breasts from boyhood, thus have wrought
Our spirits to communion; but I swear
That neither chance nor change nor time nor aught
That makes the future of our lives less fair,
Shall sunder us who once have breathed this air
Of soul-commingling friendship passion-fraught.
Alfred Houseman 1859-1936
A poem from A Shropshire Lad youtu.be/ao3XUlJuEvo
Oh Who Is That Young Sinner
Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
Oh they're taking him to prison for the colour of his hair.
'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
In the good old time 'twas hanging for the colour that it is;
Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair
For the nameless and abominable colour of his hair.
Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare,
And they're haling him to justice for the colour of his hair.
Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet
And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
And between his spells of labour in the time he has to spare
He can curse the God that made him for the colour of his hair.
Charlotte Mew 1869-1928
Rooms poetryfoundation.org/poems/55326/rooms-56d236ccd8a74
