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1882–1941

XXIII

James Joyce

This heart that flutters near my heart My hope and all my riches is, Unhappy when we draw apart And happy between kiss and kiss:

My hope and all my riches — yes!— And all my happiness. For there, as in some mossy nest The wrens will divers treasures keep,

I laid those treasures I possessed Ere that mine eyes had learned to weep. Shall we not be as wise as they Though love live but a day?

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XXIII · James Joyce · Poetry Cove