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The Dead…

Posted in Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 20, 2010 by Mj Rains

Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of
the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and , farther
westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part
of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. 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.  – James Joyce, The Dead

Photo: Cemetery by blue-blood-karina

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