Chamber Music


James Joyce

THE TWILIGHT turns from amethyst
    To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
    The trees of the avenue.

The old piano plays an air,
    Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
    Her head inclines this way.

Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
    That wander as they list—
The twilight turns to darker blue
    With lights of amethyst.

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