To Nero, with passion.

Oh Nero, true and endless lore,
You will be mine forever-more.
Let tide and time quiver before us,
And speak of Nero, and his love Sporus.
If I can be over-hopeful:
May our love last like shining opal.
May it gleam, white-gold,
and keep all lovers bold,
Glint of green in the eyes of men,
May they fail to carve them, then.
It would repel all scripture and heart:
if you and I were ever to part.
Take my hand up to you lips,
and kiss along my fingertips,
and if you so dare, suck on my forefinger:
I beg you, let your passion linger.
By your eyes the gods were tempted,
I thank them all you were exempted.
Love may be what love can be:
let your mind only occupy me.
I think of you as Achilles did his lover:
Patroclus felt that flame, and did not recover.  
Pluto told us to feel unafraid,
And on his deathbed where he laid;
He wishes all men and men,
As all same and women,
Would find this heartache over stricken;
It will not be sin, and our pride may thicken,
we may trust that it should.
Oh, my love, did you so hurt her that she could
not carry your child to life?
Had she deserved to suffer in strife?
To be loved, and loved in your basking heat
like the sun; sizzling our skin, and meat;
Ripened fruit, and grapes plump and dark.
May our hearts be roots; and your anger be our bark.
May I be a boy as well as I can,
And a better lover, not a man.
Lift my veil and look deeply inside,
All this love i will not hide.
Ut manibus meis, my love, and follow me to shame.
Tongues languid, love, and set our hearts aflame.

 

Read about the true story of Roman Emperor Nero and his second husband Sporus, whom he castrated in an attempt to keep his boyish looks, here.

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