Page:Sappho and the Vigil of Venus (1920).djvu/36

16 Then in thy wisdom, Dica, do thou twine,

With fingers soft, in wreaths of anise-spray

All fairest flowers to deck thy lovely hair.

To suppliants flower-crowned the Gods incline

A gracious ear, but turn in scorn away

From the ungarlanded, and spurn their prayer.

The moon has dipt into the sea:

The Pleiads' westering flight is flown:

Deep midnight's pall hangs heavily:

The time fleets by: and I—ah me!—

Lie on my couch alone, alone!

Thou fool—that thou shouldst plume thyself

On rich attire, on jewel-hoard,

On dross of thine ill-gotten pelf,

On carcanet and flashing ring,

On meats and wines that load thy board!

Ay, cup on cup past numbering

Thou drainest with the drunken! Fool,

Who hast not learnt in wisdom's school