Today is a day of work I shan’t shirk.
O day is an extra special day of love: mebbe one even I manage to make.
Day is the name of my first lover ever: a memory which then touched me grave, and still will remind.
Ay is the word I’d love you to use in answer to a question far too precious to abuse: “Will you ever consent to see me again?”
Y is the word which has governed my life: from beginning to end; from tend to untend; from before I met you grand on Bloomsday last year to this curious after time that’s
changed me so fine;
and redeemed me;
and seamed me;
and happy me