Song, by James Joyce

My love is in a light attire

     Among the apple trees,

Where the gay winds do most desire
     To run in companies.

There, where the gay winds stay to woo
     The young leaves as they pass,
My love goes slowly, bending to
     Her shadow on the grass.

And where the sky's a pale blue cup
     Over the laughing land,
My love goes lightly, holding up
     Her dress with dainty hand.