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The Twilight Turns
(2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941 / Dublin / Ireland)

The Twilight Turns

Poem By 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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Comments (1)

One of my favorite poems of all time. It captures the romance and encahntment of the first meeting of a new love. I like the way she is so coincidently introduced...and then the impressions of the beginning adventure interrupted by night passing again signals to me a romantic pleasure that can be had with memory and time. I like to read this poem back to back with 'I hear and Army...' (which is about the despair at the end of love)


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