Page 1291 - ULYSSES
P. 1291

Ulysses


                                  red Indian what do they go about like that for only getting
                                  themselves and their poetry laughed at I always liked
                                  poetry when I was a girl first I thought he was a poet like
                                  lord Byron and not an ounce of it in his composition I

                                  thought he was quite different I wonder is he too young
                                  hes about wait 88 I was married 88 Milly is 15 yesterday
                                  89 what age was he then at Dillons 5 or 6 about 88 I
                                  suppose hes 20 or more Im not too old for him if hes 23
                                  or 24 I hope hes not that stuckup university student sort
                                  no otherwise he wouldnt go sitting down in the old
                                  kitchen with him taking Eppss cocoa and talking of course
                                  he pretended to understand it all probably he told him he
                                  was out of Trinity college hes very young to be a professor
                                  I hope hes not a professor like Goodwin was he was a
                                  potent professor of John Jameson they all write about
                                  some woman in their poetry well I suppose he wont find
                                  many like me where softly sighs of love the light guitar
                                  where poetry is in the air  the blue sea and the moon
                                  shining so beautifully coming back on the nightboat from
                                  Tarifa the lighthouse at Europa point the guitar that fellow
                                  played was so expressive will I ever go back there again all
                                  new faces two glancing eyes a lattice hid Ill sing that for
                                  him theyre my eyes if hes anything of a poet two eyes as
                                  darkly bright as loves own star arent those beautiful words



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