When I was a boy between twelve
I did all the things boys have done as they grew,
but I wondered, I did, with a whole world against me,
why my wants were so wrong, but so pleasing to do.
It was a world that to me was unwilling and busy
with pedestrian thought and a wasteful routine
that slapped a boy down till he was dull and dizzy -
a boy who knew nothing of what was obscene.
Though today I shall count myself sixty and twenty,
much altered by principles I was pressed to pursue,
I wish for the time when a world was against me,
and my wants were so wrong, but so pleasing to do.
If you've any comment on this poem, J.D.Heskin would be pleased to hear from you.