Dawn

The Poems of Sappho, by John Myers O'Hara, [1910], at sacred-texts.com

p. 86

DAWN

Just now the golden-sandalled Dawn
Peered through the lattice of my room;
        Why must thou fare so soon, my Phaon?

Last night I met thee at the shore,
A thousand hues were in the sky;
        The breeze from Cyprus blew, my Phaon!

I drew, to lave thy heated brow,
My kerchief dripping from the sea;
        Why hadst thou sailed so far, my Phaon?

Far up the narrow mountain paths
We heard the shepherds fluting home;
        Like some white God thou seemed, my Phaon!

And through the olive trees we saw
The twinkle of my vesper lamp;
        Wilt kiss me now as then, my Phaon?

Nay, loosen not with gentle force
The clasp of my restraining arms;
        I will not let thee go, my Phaon!

See, deftly in my trailing robe
I spring and draw the lattice close;
        Is it not night again, my Phaon?