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James Joyce

James Joyce

O Sweetheart, Hear You

O Sweetheart, hear you
Your lover’s tale;
A man shall have sorrow
When friends him fail.
 
For he shall know then
Friends be untrue
And a little ashes
Their words come to.
 
But one unto him
Will softly move
And softly woo him
In ways of love.
 
His hand is under
Her smooth round breast;
So he who has sorrow
Shall have rest.

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