Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics Part 13

And there is nothing more in this great world Than thou and I, and the blue dome of dusk. 10

Lx.x.xIII

In the quiet garden world, Gold sunlight and shadow leaves Flicker on the wall.

And the wind, a moment since, With rose-petals strewed the path 5 And the open door.

Now the moon-white b.u.t.terflies Float across the liquid air, Glad as in a dream;

And, across thy lover's heart, 10 Visions of one scarlet mouth With its maddening smile.

Lx.x.xIV

Soft was the wind in the beech-trees; Low was the surf on the sh.o.r.e; In the blue dusk one planet Like a great sea-pharos shone.

But nothing to me were the sea-sounds, 5 The wind and the yellow star, When over my breast the banner Of your golden hair was spread.

Lx.x.xV

Have you heard the news of Sappho's garden, And the Golden Rose of Mitylene, Which the bending brown-armed rowers lately Brought from over sea, from lonely Pontus?

In a meadow by the river Halys, 5 Where some wood-G.o.d hath the world in keeping, On a burning summer noon they found her, Lovely as a Dryad, and more tender.

Her these eyes have seen, and not another Shall behold, till time takes all things goodly, 10 So surpa.s.sing fair and fond and wondrous,-- Such a slave as, worth a great king's ransom,

No man yet of all the sons of mortals But would lose his soul for and regret not; So hath Beauty compa.s.sed all her children 15 With the cords of longing and desire.

Only Hermes, master of word music, Ever yet in glory of gold language Could ensphere the magical remembrance Of her melting, half sad, wayward beauty, 20

Or devise the silver phrase to frame her, The inevitable name to call her, Half a sigh and half a kiss when whispered, Like pure air that feeds a forge's hunger.

Not a painter in the Isles of h.e.l.las 25 Could portray her, mix the golden tawny With bright stain of poppies, or ensanguine Like the life her darling mouth's vermilion,

So that, in the ages long hereafter, When we shall be dust of perished summers, 30 Any man could say who found that likeness, Smiling gently on it, "This was Gorgo!"

Lx.x.xVI

Love is so strong a thing, The very G.o.ds must yield, When it is welded fast With the unflinching truth.

Love is so frail a thing, 5 A word, a look, will kill.

Oh lovers, have a care How ye do deal with love.

Lx.x.xVII

Hadst thou, with all thy loveliness, been true, Had I, with all my tenderness, been strong, We had not made this ruin out of life, This desolation in a world of joy, My poor Gorgo. 5

Yet even the high G.o.ds at times do err; Be therefore thou not overcome with woe, But dedicate anew to greater love An equal heart, and be thy radiant self Once more, Gorgo. 10

Lx.x.xVIII

As, on a morn, a traveller might emerge From the deep green seclusion of the hills, By a cool road through forest and through fern, Little frequented, winding, followed long With joyous expectation and day-dreams, 5 And on a sudden, turning a great rock Covered with frondage, dark with dripping water, Behold the seaboard full of surf and sound, With all the s.p.a.ce and glory of the world Above the burnished silver of the sea,-- 10

Even so it was upon that first spring day When time, that is a devious path for men, Led me all lonely to thy door at last; And all thy splendid beauty, gracious and glad, (Glad as bright colour, free as wind or air, 15 And lovelier than racing seas of foam) Bore sense and soul and mind at once away To a pure region where the G.o.ds might dwell, Making of me, a vagrant child before, A servant of joy at Aphrodite's will. 20

Lx.x.xIX

Where shall I look for thee, Where find thee now, O my lost Atthis?

Storm bars the harbour, And snow keeps the pa.s.s 5 In the blue mountains.

Bitter the wind whistles, Pale is the sun, And the days shorten.

Close to the hearthstone, 10 With long thoughts of thee, Thy lonely lover

Sits now, remembering All the spent hours And thy fair beauty. 15

Ah, when the hyacinth Wakens with spring, And buds the laurel,

Doubt not, some morning When all earth revives, 20 Hearing Pan's flute-call