Seven Poems by James Joyce

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

There's music along the river 
  [For Love wanders there,]1
Pale [flowers]1 on his mantle, 
  Dark leaves on his hair. 

All softly playing, 
  With head to [the]3 music bent, 
And fingers straying 
  Upon an instrument.

Who goes amid the green wood 
  With springtide all adorning her? 
Who goes amid the meny green wood 
  To make it merrier? 

Who passes in the sunlight 
  By ways that know the light footfall? 
Who passes in the sweet sunlight 
  With mien so virginal? 

The ways of all the woodland 
  Gleam with a soft and golden fire? 
For whom does all the sunny woodland 
  Carry so brave attire? 

O, it is for my true love 
The woods their rich apparel wear 
O, it is for my own true love, 
  That is so young and fair.

Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
That will not after,
That song and laughter
Do nothing move.
 
With ribbons streaming
He sings the bolder;
In troop at his shoulder
The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
Dreams is over--
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I come.

O cool is the valley now 
  And there, love, will we go 
For many a choir is singing now 
  Where Love did sometime go. 

And hear you not the thrushes calling, 
  Calling us away? 
O cool and pleasant is the valley 
  And there, love, will we stay.

O, it was out by Donnycarney 
  When the bat flew from tree to tree 
My love and I did walk together; 
  And sweet were the words she said to me. 

Along with us the summer wind 
  Went murmuring - O, happily! - 
But softer than the breath of summer 
  Was the kiss she gave to me.

Rain has fallen all the day.
O come among the laden trees:
The leaves lie thick upon the way
Of [mem'ries.]1

Staying a little by the way
Of [mem'ries]1 shall we depart.
Come, my beloved, where I may
Speak to your heart.

Now, O now, in this brown land
    Where Love did so sweet music make 
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
    Forbearing for old friendship' sake, 
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
    Is knocking, knocking at the tree; 
And all around our loneliness
    The wind is whistling merrily. 
The leaves -- - they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more
    The vilanelle and roundelay! 
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before
    We take sad leave at close of day. 
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything -- -
The year, the year is gathering.