Page:Sappho and the Vigil of Venus (1920).djvu/27

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O Queen of Song, who art throned on gold,

Upraise the strain which the singer of old,

Even he of Teos,—the goodly town

Whose daughters wear beauty's royal crown,—

From ravishment-breathing lips outrolled,

A chant of undying renown.

When wrath's wild-surging tide hath broken

The floodgates of thy breast, refrain

Thy tongue, lest words in passion spoken

Be mad and vain.

O violet-wreathed, O pure as snow

Sappho, whose voice is honey-sweet,

Something I fain would say—but O,

Shame on my tongue hath set her feet.