These collected poems are presented in chronological order, and the author actually notifies us, with disarming candour, that the earlier ones tend to be less satisfying. Certainly this arrangement gives us a chance to trace the maturing of Lord Alfred, from sloppy-floppy undergraduate (reflected in his photographs from that time) to something like a serious poet with a living to earn. It does not, however, invalidate the common view that these verses would never have seen the light of day, had they not been by the notorious ‘Bosie’ of the Oscar Wilde scandal. Knowing this, we can see the point of trudging through them, for the satisfaction of recognising characters and events from his life, which still rewards detailed study.

The Dead Poet (Paris 1901) is obviously Oscar, and the shock seems to have pulled him together; it is from this point that the work starts to acquire tautness and conviction. Soon after this, he married a fellow-bisexual poetess, Olive Custance, and although the marriage was highly unconventional, he addresses a sincere tribute to her in one of the strongest poems in the book. Elsewhere we find more veiled references to his private life, mostly joyless gay hook-ups apparently, addressed to an anonymous ‘thee’. An early work about a prince swapping clothes with a shepherd seems to reflect his rough-trade preferences, while a reference to Capri would have put out its own masonic-type signal to the gay congoscenti of those days.

I can’t offer up any favourites, either memorable or quotable, though his first long poem, Perkin Warbeck, is quite craftsmanlike, and The Ballad of St. Vitus marches forward at a satisfying pace. He seems dedicated to the sonnet-form, but we note the giveaway ‘shoe horning’ of rhymes by those who can’t always cope with the strictures.