James Augustine Aloysius Joyce was an Irish novelist and poet, considered to be one of the most influential writers in the modernist avant-garde of the early 20th century. Joyce is best known for Ulysses (1922), a landmark work in which the episodes of Homer's Odyssey are paralleled in an array of contrasting literary styles, perhaps most prominently the stream of consciousness technique he perfected. Other major works are the short-story collection Dubliners (1914), and the novels A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916) and Finnegans Wake (1939). His complete oeuvre includes three books of poetry, a play, occasional journalism, and his published letters.
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James Joyce Poems
All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters
All day I hear the noise of waters Making moan, Sad as the sea-bird is when, going Forth alone,
I Hear an Army Charging Upon the Land
I hear an army charging upon the land, And the thunder of horses plunging, foam about their knees: Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand, Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips, the charioteers.
Be Not Sad
Be not sad because all men Prefer a lying clamour before you: Sweetheart, be at peace again -- - Can they dishonour you?
The noon's greygolden meshes make All night a veil, The shorelamps in the sleeping lake Laburnum tendrils trail.
A Flower Given to My Daughter
Frail the white rose and frail are Her hands that gave Whose soul is sere and paler Than time's wan wave.
Sleep Now, O Sleep Now
Sleep now, O sleep now, O you unquiet heart! A voice crying "Sleep now" Is heard in my heart.
Of the dark past A child is born; With joy and grief My heart is torn.
At That Hour
At that hour when all things have repose, O lonely watcher of the skies, Do you hear the night wind and the sighs Of harps playing unto Love to unclose
Gentle Lady, Do Not Sing
Gentle lady, do not sing Sad songs about the end of love; Lay aside sadness and sing How love that passes is enough.
Because Your Voice Was at My Side
Because your voice was at my side I gave him pain, Because within my hand I held Your hand again.
My Dove, My Beautiful One
My dove, my beautiful one, Arise, arise! The night-dew lies Upon my lips and eyes.
Again! Come, give, yield all your strength to me! From far a low word breathes on the breaking brain Its cruel calm, submission's misery,
Lean Out of the Window
Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air.
Goldbrown upon the sated flood The rockvine clusters lift and sway; Vast wings above the lambent waters brood Of sullen day.
Quotationsmore quotations »
''It seems to me you do not care what banality a man expresses so long as he expresses it in Irish.''James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author. Stephen Daedalus, in Stephen Hero, ch. 17 (1944, revised 1975). In answer to Madden's attempts to convert h...
Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.... Old father, old artificer, stand me no...James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author. Stephen Dedalus, in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, ch. 5 (1916). Departing from Ireland, in the c...
''Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.''James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author. Stephen Dedalus, in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, ch. 5 (1916).
''Art is the human disposition of sensible or intelligible matter for an esthetic end.''James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author. Stephen Dedalus, in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, ch. 5 (1916).
''I fear those big words which make us so unhappy.''James Joyce (1882-1941), Irish author. Stephen Dedalus, in Ulysses, ch. 2 of 1984 edition (1922).
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters
All day I hear the noise of waters
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
He hears the winds cry to the water's
The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.