O cool is the valley now
And there, love, will we go
For many a choir is singing now
Where Love did sometime go.
And hear you not the thrushes calling,
Calling us away?
O cool and pleasant is the valley
And there, love, will we stay.
More verses by James Joyce
- Who Goes Amid The Green Wood
- The Ballad Of Persse O'Reilly
- On The Beach At Fontana
- What Counsel Has The Hooded Moon
- Silently She's Combing