Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Remix (4)

Joyce laments:

O bitter ending!
I'll slip away before they're up.
They'll never see.
Nor know.
Nor miss me.

And it's old and old
It's sad and old
It's sad and weary
I go back to you,
My cold father,
My cold mad father,
My cold mad feary father.

1 comment:

Murchadha said...

It was Edmund Wilson who pointed to the poetic quality of the last pages of FW in his review of the first American edition, and he extended this insight in later analysis: http://tinyurl.com/47e5hpo