(Sappho)Never the tramp of foot or horse,
Nor lusty cries from ship at sea,
Shall I call loveliest on the dark earth-My heart moves lovingly.
I say that what one loves is best:
The midnight fastness of the heart.
Helen, you took the beauty of
With unpitying art!
White Paris from Idean
For you the Trojan towers
Who swiftly ploughed the black
Had on your white arm gazed!
Oh, how loving from
Led you to grief, for in your
The present was too light, as
Among fair womankind. . . .
So,
Anactoria, go you
With what calm carelessness of sorrow!
Your gleaming footstep and your grace,
When comes another morrow,
Much would I rather then
Than Lydian cars or infantry.
I ask the lot of blessedness,
Beloved, in memory.
