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James Joyce

James Joyce

Ecce Puer

Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.
 
Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!
 
Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.
 
A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!

#Irish

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Ulysses: I – Nestor

Fabled by the daughters of memory. And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. A phrase, then, of impatience, thud of Blake’s wings of excess. I hear the ruin of all space, s...
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He Who Hath Glory Lost

He Who Hath Glory Lost He who hath glory lost, nor hath Found any soul to fellow his, Among his foes in scorn and wrath Holding to ancient nobleness,
In the Dark Pine-Wood

In the dark pine—wood I would we lay, In deep cool shadow At noon of day. How sweet to lie there,
Portrait of Mlle Rachel, by William Etty
Be Not Sad

Be not sad because all men Prefer a lying clamour before you: Sweetheart, be at peace again— Can they dishonour you? They are sadder than all tears;
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My Dove, my Beautiful One

My dove, my beautiful one, Arise, arise! The night-dew lies Upon my lips and eyes. The odorous winds are weaving
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Greenwich Hospital from Woolwich Reach, by David Cox
All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters

All day I hear the noise of water… Making moan, Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone, He hears the winds cry to the wate…
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Though I Thy Mithridates Were

Though I thy Mithridates were, Framed to defy the poison—dart, Yet must thou fold me unaware To know the rapture of thy heart, And I but render and confess
Love Came to Us

Love came to us in time gone by When one at twilight shyly played And one in fear was standing nigh… For Love at first is all afraid. We were grave lovers. Love is pas…
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Ulysses: II – Hades

Martin Cunningham, first, poked his silkhatted head into the creaking carriage and, entering deftly, seated himself. Mr Power stepped in after him, curving his height with care. Mr Deda...
A Flower Given to my Daughter

Frail the white rose and frail are Her hands that gave Whose soul is sere and paler Than time’s wan wave. Rosefrail and fair—yet frailest
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I Would in That Sweet Bosom Be

I would in that sweet bosom be (O sweet it is and fair it is!) Where no rude wind might visit me. Because of sad austerities I would in that sweet bosom be.
Alone

The noon’s greygolden meshes make All night a veil, The shorelamps in the sleeping lak… Laburnum tendrils trail. The sly reeds whisper to the night
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Rain Has Fallen All the Day

Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories. Staying a little by the way
I Hear an Army Charging Upon the Land

I hear an army charging upon the l… And the thunder of horses plunging… Arrogant, in black armour, behind… Disdaining the reins, with flutter… They cry unto the night their batt…
A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight

They mouth love’s language. Gnash The thirteen teeth Your lean jaws grin with. Lash Your itch and quailing, nude greed… Love’s breath in you is stale, wor…



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