When Hearts Are Trumps

Victorian verse at its mostwicked and tender. Tom Hall captures the game of love as played in the 1890s: the flutter of a fan, the coded glance across the ballroom, the agony of an unanswered heart. These poems inhabit charming suitors, witty women who say no meaning yes, and lovers left standing in the garden at midnight. The tone shifts from sly humor to genuine ache, often within a single stanza. For readers who want to hear how Victorians actually talked about desire, behind the propriety and the petticoats. This is love as strategy, as lottery, as the only game worth losing.