Page:Sappho and the Vigil of Venus (1920).djvu/56

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Ah, she sings, but I am tongue-tied! When to me is spring revealed?

When shall I be as the swallow, and my lips no more be sealed?

Lost is all my gift of song; Apollo scorns to look on me!

So, because her lovers' lips were bridled, perished Amyclae.

Tomorn who ne'er hath loved shall love, and who hath loved shall love tomorn.