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Thu 17 Jun, 2004 07:04 pm
A Flower Given to My Daughter
James Joyce
Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave.
Rosefrail and fair -- yet frailest
A wonder wild
In gentle eyes thou veilest,
My blueveined child.
Hi, Miller. I like Joyce, too.
I love Joyce; he was one of the geniuses to last all time. So poetic, in what seems an 'effortless' manner.
Joyce is a better novelist than a poet.
'...Her hands that gave...' Who's getting and who's getting the rose, do you suppose?
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