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James Joyce - Now, O Now in This Brown Land
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Now, O now, in this brown land 
Where Love did so sweet music make 
We two shall wander, hand in hand, 
Forbearing for old friendship` sake, 
Nor grieve because our love was gay 
Which now is ended in this way. 

A rogue in red and yellow dress 
Is knocking, knocking at the tree; 
And all around our loneliness 
The wind is whistling merrily. 
The leaves — - they do not sigh at all 
When the year takes them in the fall. 

Now, O now, we hear no more 
The vilanelle and roundelay! 
Yet will we kiss, sweetheart, before 
We take sad leave at close of day. 
Grieve not, sweetheart, for anything — - 
The year, the year is gathering.
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