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The Twilight Turns

 The twilight turns from amethyst 
To deep and deeper blue, 
The lamp fills with a pale green glow 
The trees of the avenue.
The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay; She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way.
Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander as they list -- - The twilight turns to darker blue With lights of amethyst.

Poem by James Joyce
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Book: Shattered Sighs