Alone
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.
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About Me
- Maid of Astolat
- Thinking of pushing the boat out as my love for Lancelot is alas, unrequited. ;-)
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