Читать книгу THE JAMES JOYCE COLLECTION - 5 Books in One Edition - James Joyce, James Joyce - Страница 27

Silently she’s combing,

Combing her long hair Silently and graciously,

With many a pretty air.

The sun is in the willow leaves

And on the dapplled grass, And still she’s combing her long hair Before the looking-glass.

I pray you, cease to comb out,

Comb out your long hair, For I have heard of witchery

Under a pretty air,

That makes as one thing to the lover Staying and going hence, All fair, with many a pretty air And many a negligence.