Again! Come, give, yield all your stre… From far a low word breathes on th… Its cruel calm, submission’s miser… Gentling her awe as to a soul pred…

By Lorries along sir John Rogerson’s quay Mr Bloom walked soberly, past Windmill lane, Leask’s the linseed crusher, the postal telegraph office. Could have given that address too. And p...

Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat. Bad for their tummies. Lozenge and comfit manuf...

Gaunt in gloom, The pale stars their torches, Enshrouded, wave. Ghostfires from heaven’s far verge… Arches on soaring arches,

Strings in the earth and air Make music sweet; Strings by the river where The willows meet. There’s music along the river

The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and...

I heard their young hearts crying Loveward above the glancing oar And heard the prairie grasses sigh… No more, return no more! O hearts, O sighing grasses,

My love is in a light attire Among the apple—trees, Where the gay winds do most desire To run in companies. There, where the gay winds stay to…

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 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.

O Sweetheart, hear you Your lover’s tale; A man shall have sorrow When friends him fail. For he shall know then