All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below,
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.
James Joyce (1882-1941)
To read a biography of Joyce, click here.
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