For I no longer will abide
Where youth and age lie side by side.
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Cytherea, thy dainty Adonis is dying!
O Nymphs, let it echo, the voice of your crying,The greenwood through!O Forest-maidens, smite on the breast,Rend ye the delicate-woven vest!Let the wail ring wild and high:‘Ah for Adonis!’ cry.O Sappho, how canst thou chant the blissOf Kypris — after such day as this?‘Oh Adonis, thou leavest me — woe for my lot!And Eros, my…
This dust was Timas; and they say
She found her bridal home to beThe dark house of Persephone.And many maidens, knowing thenThat she would not come back again,Unbound their curls; and all in tears,They cut them off with sharpened shears.
Must I remind you, Cleis,
are unbecoming ina poet’s household?and that they are notsuitable in ours?Sapphotr. Barnard
It was you, Atthis, who said
up and let us look at youI shall never love you again!‘Get up, unleash your suppleness,lift off your Chian nightdressand, like a lily leaning into‘a spring, bathe in the water.Cleis is bringing your bestpruple frock and the yellow‘tunic down from the clothes chest;you will have a cloak thrown overyou and flowers crowning your hair…‘Praxinoa, my…
And their feet move
feet of Cretan girlsdanced once around analtar of love, crushinga circle in the softsmooth flowering grass
Bride, around whom the rosy leaves are flying,
The bed awaits thee; go, and with him lying,Give to the groom thy sweetness, softly sighing.May Hesperus in gladness pass before thee,And Hera of the silver throne bend o’er thee.