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

THE TWILIGHT TURNS FROM AMETHYST

by: James Joyce (1882-1941)