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| THE TWILIGHT’S inner flame grows blue and deep, | |
| And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea, | |
| The temples glimmer moonwise in the trees. | |
| Twilight has veiled the little flower face | |
| Here on my heart, but still the night is kind | 5 |
| And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast. | |
| Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk | |
| Along the surges creeping up the shore | |
| When tides came in to ease the hungry beach, | |
| And running, running, till the night was black, | 10 |
| Would fall forespent upon the chilly sand | |
| And quiver with the winds from off the sea? | |
| Ah, quietly the shingle waits the tides | |
| Whose waves are stinging kisses, but to me | |
| Love brought no peace, nor darkness any rest. | 15 |
| I crept and touched the foam with fevered hands | |
| And cried to Love, from whom the sea is sweet, | |
| From whom the sea is bitterer than death. | |
| Ah, Aphrodite, if I sing no more | |
| To thee, God’s daughter, powerful as God, | 20 |
| It is that thou hast made my life too sweet | |
| To hold the added sweetness of a song. | |
| There is a quiet at the heart of love, | |
| And I have pierced the pain and come to peace. | |
| I hold my peace, my Cleïs, on my heart; | 25 |
| And softer than a little wild bird’s wing | |
| Are kisses that she pours upon my mouth. | |
| Ah, never any more when spring like fire | |
| Will flicker in the newly opened leaves, | |
| Shall I steal forth to seek for solitude | 30 |
| Beyond the lure of light Alcæus’ lyre, | |
| Beyond the sob that stilled Erinna’s voice. | |
| Ah, never with a throat that aches with song, | |
| Beneath the white uncaring sky of spring, | |
| Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love | 35 |
| The quiver and the crying of my heart. | |
| Still I remember how I strove to flee | |
| The love-note of the birds, and bowed my head | |
| To hurry faster, but upon the ground | |
| I saw two wingèd shadows side by side, | 40 |
| And all the world’s spring passion stifled me. | |
| Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might, | |
| No lonely place where thou hast never trod, | |
| No desert thou hast left uncarpeted | |
| With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet. | 45 |
| In many guises didst thou come to me; | |
| I saw thee by the maidens while they danced, | |
| Phaon allured me with a look of thine, | |
| In Anactoria I knew thy grace, | |
| I looked at Cercolas and saw thine eyes; | 50 |
| But never wholly, soul and body mine, | |
| Didst thou bid any love me as I loved. | |
| Now I have found the peace that fled from me; | |
| Close, close, against my heart I hold my world. | |
| Ah, Love that made my life a lyric cry, | 55 |
| Ah, Love that tuned my lips to lyres of thine, | |
| I taught the world thy music, now alone | |
| I sing for one who falls asleep to hear. | |
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