O Love, Love, Love!

φαἰνεταί μοι κῆνος ἴπος θεοῑπον

Εμμεν ἀνίρ.Sappho.

O Love, Love, Love! oh, withering might!

O sun, that at thy noonday height

Shudderest, when I strain my sight,

Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light!

      Lo! falling from my constant mind,

      Lo! parched and withered, deaf and blind,

      I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.

Last night, when some one spoke his name,

From my swift blood, that went and came,

A thousand little shafts of flame

Were shivered in my narrow frame.

      O Love, O fire! once he drew

      With one long kiss my whole soul thro'

      My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Before he mounts the hill, I know

He cometh quickly: from below

Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow

Before him, striking on my brow.

      In my dry brain my spirit soon,

      Downdeepening from swoon to swoon,

      Faints like a dazzled morning moon.

The wind sounds like a silver wire,

And from beyond the noon a fire

Is poured upon the hills, and nigher

The skies stoop down in their desire;

      And, isled in sudden seas of light,

      My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight,

      Bursts into blossom in his sight.

My whole soul waiting silently,

All naked in a sultry sky,

Droops blinded with his shining eye,

I will possess him or will die.

      I will grow round him in his place,

      Grow—live—die looking on his face,

      Die, dying clasped in his embrace.