Alone The sly reeds whisper to the night By James Joyce
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Alone
Posted by CB Henderson at 9:31 PM
Labels: Life and Poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment