Amid the rose and willow bright, Stretched out across the stream, The seasons pass through day and night, The hours weave thoughts a dream.

Through fluting pipes the brook does hum, A lull of wonder sought, As shimmering wings of fireflies come To dance in moonlight wrought.

Summer’s laughter cools the grass, And fragrance fills the air, For memories and whispers pass Where nature’s grace hung rare.

A formless twirl of leaves in flight, Collecting hours of gold, A tapestry of shifting light, In breezes gently hold.

• James Joyce