The Poetry Corner

Silently Shes Combing

By James Joyce

Silently shes combing, Combing her long hair Silently and graciously, With many a pretty air. The sun is in the willow leaves And on the dapplled grass, And still shes combing her long hair Before the looking-glass. I pray you, cease to comb out, Comb out your long hair, For I have heard of witchery Under a pretty air, That makes as one thing to the lover Staying and going hence, All fair, with many a pretty air And many a negligence.