She would fain have cried to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him to come, to feel his lips
laid on her white brow, the cry of a young girl's love, a little strangled cry, wrung from her, that cry that
has rung through the ages. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! then the Roman candle
burst and it was like a sigh of O! and everyone cried O! O! in raptures and it gushed out of it a stream of
rain gold hair threads and they shed and ah! they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O so
lovely, O, soft, sweet, soft!
JAMES JOYCE,
Ulysses, p. 300., 13/733-740 |