Silently shes combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dapplled grass,
And still shes combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
Silently Shes Combing
James Joyce
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.