FROM DEWY DREAMS, MY SOUL, ARISE

by: James Joyce (1882-1941)

      ROM dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
      From love's deep slumber and from death,
      For lo! the trees are full of sighs
      Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.
       
      Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
      Where softly-burning fires appear,
      Making to tremble all those veils
      Of grey and golden gossamer.
       
      While sweetly, gently, secretly,
      The flowery bells of morn are stirred
      And the wise choirs of faery
      Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

"From dewy dreams, my soul, arise" is reprinted from Chamber Music. James Joyce. London: Elkin Mathews, 1907.

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