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1882–1941

XX

James Joyce

In the dark pine-wood I would we lay, In deep cool shadow At noon of day.

How sweet to lie there, Sweet to kiss, Where the great pine-forest Enaisled is!

Thy kiss descending Sweeter were With a soft tumult Of thy hair.

O unto the pine-wood At noon of day Come with me now, Sweet love, away.

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XX · James Joyce · Poetry Cove