James Joyce Songs

At that hour when all things have repose,
    O lonely watcher of the skies, 
    Do you hear the night wind and the sighs 
Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
    The pale gates of sunrise?

When all things repose, do you alone
    Awake to hear the sweet harps play 
    To Love before him on his way, 
And the night wind answering in antiphon
    Till night is overgone?

Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,
    Whose way in heaven is aglow 
    At that hour when soft lights come and go, 
Soft sweet music in the air above
    And in the earth below.

 When the shy star goes forth in heaven 
   All maidenly, disconsolate, 
 Hear you amid the drowsy even 
   One who is singing by your gate. 
 His song is softer than the dew 
   And he is come to visit you. 

 O bend no more in revery 
   When he at eventide is calling, 
 Nor muse: Who may this singer be 
   Whose song about my heart is falling 
 Know you by this, the lover's chant, 
   'Tis I that am your visitant.

Lean out of the window,
  Goldenhair,
I heard you singing
  A merry air.

My book is closed;
  I read no more,
Watching the fire dance
  On the floor.

I have left my book,
  I have left my room,
For I heard you singing
  Through the gloom,

Singing and singing
  A merry air.
Lean out of the window,
  Goldenhair.

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. 

I would be ever in that heart 
  (O soft I knock and soft entreat her!) 
Where only peace might be my part. 
  Austerities were all the sweeter 
So I were ever in that heart.

Go seek her out all courteously,
    And say I come, 
Wind of spices whose song is ever
    Epithalamium. 
O, hurry over the dark lands
    And run upon the sea 
For seas and lands shall not divide us
    My love and me.

Now, wind, of your good courtesy
    I pray you go, 
And come into her little garden
    And sing at her window; 
Singing: The bridal wind is blowing
    For Love is at his noon; 
And soon will your true love be with you,
    Soon, O soon.

Winds of May, that dance on the sea, 
Dancing a ring-around in glee 
From furrow to furrow, while overhead 
The foam flies up to be garlanded, 
In silvery arches spanning the air, 
Saw you my true love anywhere? 
		 Welladay! Welladay! 
		 For the winds of May! 
  Love is unhappy when love is away!

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 woo 
The young leaves as they pass, 
My love goes slowly, bending to 
Her shadow on the grass; 

And where the sky's a pale blue cup 
Over the laughing land, 
My love goes lightly, holding up 
Her dress with dainty hand.