Joycean

An errant salt in
Stead awareness
Plied the long privation,

Quit the night and
Trips in dew before a dawn of
Language, trips in
Dew, the drops are
Glist'ning in the
Grass, the drops are
Glist'ning on the

Glass. The glass! The
Years! The weird and warp of
Time, the tears are
Cold and hard. They
Roll most slowly down
Old windowpanes.