Explore "Tilly" by James Joyce on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He travels after a winter sun, / Urging the cattle along a cold red road, / Calling to them, a voice they know, / He drives his beasts above Cabra.
The voice tells them home is warm.
They moo and make brute music with their hoofs.
He drives them with a flowering branch before him, / Smoke pluming their foreheads.
Boor, bond of the herd, / Tonight stretch full by the fire!
I bleed by the black stream / For my torn bough!
Dublin, 1904.