9/21/2012

Alone By James Joyce


The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name - her name
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.

3 comments:

  1. Nice. I like that image, too, :)

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  2. Joyce's poetry is eclipsed by his fiction I suppose,understandably, Teresa. This is a new poem to me which I read in a book footnote the other day. Joyce and Hopper together. I wonder if I'm the first person to make the link? :)

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    Replies
    1. It's an intriguing one. You may well be. I like it. These seemingly disparate connections always go deeper.

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