I cannot lie and say I am not strange
Nor would I do so, even if I could.
My thoughts lie far outside the normal range
Albeit I, for my part, think them good.
My heart is otherwise than other men's,
My inclinations differ from their ways.
They do not turn by instinct to their pens,
Nor only show their hearts in turns of phrase.
I am alone, or near alone, in this,
And cannot hope that you will understand,
But know against all hope I find my bliss
In you, expressed in this work of my hand.
So love me back - but know there is no need
To write to me the way that you now read.
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