Sappho: One Hundred Lyrics by Bliss Carman
page 27 of 110 (24%)
page 27 of 110 (24%)
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But I wait and listen, 5
Till the trodden gravel Tells me, all impatience, It is Phaon's footstep. XVIII The courtyard of her house is wide And cool and still when day departs. Only the rustle of leaves is there And running water. And then her mouth, more delicate 5 Than the frail wood-anemone, Brushes my cheek, and deeper grow The purple shadows. XIX There is a medlar-tree Growing in front of my lover's house, And there all day |
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