Complete Works of James Joyce (325 page)

The following poems are from the Chamber Music cycle

Alas, how sad the lover’s l
o
t

Alas, how sad the lover’s lot

Whose love to him can do offence!

Alas, that beauty should have not

Stability nor reverence!

My heart is taken in a net

Misled ill-used made captive too

By promises and shows - but yet

Happy with vows that are untrue.

Poor heart, alas, that such offence

Love all too reverent may not chide,

That winds that have no reverence

Abide where love doth still abide!

O, it is cold and still - alas
!

O, it is cold and still - alas! -

The soft white bosom of my love,

Wherein no mood of guile or fear

But only gentleness did move.

She heard, as standing on the shore,

A bell above the waters toll,

She heard the call of ‘Come away’

Which is the calling of the soul

They covered her with linen white

And set white candles at her head

And loosened out her glorious hair

And laid her on a snow-white bed.

I saw her passing like a cloud,

Discreet and silent and apart.

O, little joy and great sorrow

Is all the music of the heart

The fiddle has a mournful sound

That’s playing in the street below.

I would I lay with her I love —

And who is here to say me no?

We lie upon the bed of love

And lie together in the ground:

To live, to love and to forget

Is all the wisdom lovers have.

She is at peace where she is sleepi
n
g

She is at peace where she is sleeping,

Her pale hands folded on her shroud,

And I am wandering in the world

Alone and sorrowful and proud.

She heard, as standing on the shore,

A bell above the waters toll,

She heard the call of ‘Come away’

Which is the calling of the soul.

They covered her with linen white

And laid her on a snow-white bed

And loosened out her glorious hair

And set white candles at her head.

I remember her moving of old

Amid grave days as one apart.

O, little joy and great sorrow

Is all the music of my heart.

The fiddle has a mournful sound

That’s playing in the street below —

I would I lay with her I love:

And who is there to say me no?

I would I lay in the dark earth

For sorrow bids me now depart

And the remembering of love

Makes a sad music in my heart.

I said: I will go down to whe
r
e

I said: I will go down to where

She waits amid the silences,

And look upon her face and smile;

And she will cover me with her hair.

I shall forget what sorrow is

And rest with her a little while.

I put aside sorrow and care

For these may not be where she is,

For these are enemies. I came

And sought the glimmer of her hair

Amid the desolate silences

And cried upon the gloom her name.

Though we are leaving youth behi
n
d

Though we are leaving youth behind

And ways of pleasure would reprove

Thou hast engraven in the mind

Thy name, O many-weathered love

And should the grace, the presence - all

That was thy magic — cease to be,

Here in the bosom ever shall

Endure thy dear charactery.

Come out to where youth is me
t

Come out to where youth is met

Under the moon, beside the sea,

And leave your weapon and your net,

Your loom and your embroidery.

This collection of poems was published in May, 1907 and is comprised of thirty-six love poems.
 
Some believe the title refers to the sound of urine tinkling into a chamber pot, but it is now generally agreed that the title was first suggested by his Joyce’s brother Stanislaus, with a more traditional sense of the phrase.

The first edition