Come, give, yield all your strength to me!
From far a low word breathes on the breaking brain
Its cruel calm, submission's misery,
Gentling her awe as to a soul predestined.
Cease, silent love! My doom!
Blind me with your dark nearness, O have mercy, beloved enemy of my will!
I dare not withstand the cold touch that I dread.
Draw from me still
My slow life! Bend deeper on me, threatening head,
Proud by my downfall, remembering, pitying
Him who is, him who was!
Together, folded by the night, they lay on earth. I hear
From far her low word breathe on my breaking brain.
Come! I yield. Bend deeper upon me! I am here.
Subduer, do not leave me! Only joy, only anguish,
Take me, save me, soothe me, O spare me!
James Joyce's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A Prayer by James Joyce )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(10 February 1898 – 14 August 1956)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(10 February 1970-)
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