The twilight turns from amethyst / James Joyce

The twilight turns from amethyst
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II

The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green glow The trees of the avenue.

The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay; She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way.

Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander as they list — The twilight turns to darker blue With lights of amethyst.