world trade (2002)
The dead
He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark,
falling obliquely against the lamplight…
It was falling on every part of the central plane…
It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones,
on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns.
His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling
faintly through the universe and faintly falling,
like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
‘Dubliners’
James Joyce 1882 - 1941