Chamber Music


James Joyce

WHAT counsel has the hooded moon
    Put in thy heart, my shyly sweet,
Of Love in ancient plenilune,
    Glory and stars beneath his feet—
A sage that is but kith and kin
    With the comedian Capuchin?

Believe me rather that am wise
    In disregard of the divine,
A glory kindles in those eyes
    Trembles to starlight. Mine, O Mine!
No more be tears in moon or mist
    For thee, sweet sentimentalist.

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