The world is paved with gold, and wing by wing
Drear autumn fields and valleys dark with rain
Re-waken with the birds of Memory!
Phaon
All time your words were tuned to madden men;
And I am drunk with these sweet pleadings, soft
As voices over many waters blown.
Sappho
Hear me, for by those gods you fear the most
There is a fire within me burns away
All pity, and some Hate, half-caged, may eat
Thro’ all its bars!
Phaon
Thro’ all its bars! Not till your mouth’s
Sad warmth droops unto mine!
Sappho
Sad warmth droops unto mine! Yours once I was,
And once, indeed, I watched you tread me down
And trample on my whitest flower of youth;
And long amid my poor dead roses lay,
Stifling with sorrow, and still held my peace,
Hoping thro’ all that pain for better things.
Down to this day I raised no voice in wrath
But bowed my head beneath your heel, and smiled
With quiet mouth and most unhappy eyes,
And saw my woman’s soul go thin and starved.
But now I warn you that the tide has turned;
Touch nevermore these hands, for my torn heart
Is desperate, and given not to words.
40
